


Unfinished Stories Marked As Whole

by Symmet



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-05-12 23:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5685880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symmet/pseuds/Symmet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of unfinished stories</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WIPs that I can play with and keep track of. Ideas I'd like to work on more. Maybe get feedback on. When and if I complete them I'll post them properly and separately.
> 
> VERY VERY UNEDITED AND ROUGH. VERY ROUGH.

Chapter Index of Stories 

2) Broken Edges, Breaking Points  
3) The Serendipity of Death  
4) The Wolf and The Dragon  
5) The Girl Who Cried Dread Wolf  
6) The White Returns  
7) Empathy's Song  
8) A Percentage of Error


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Broken Edges, Breaking Points - NOW A FINISHED POSTER CHAPTER ! ! !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU where she can't live this life over again

The woman they meet who closes the rift is blank faced. Her eyes are empty. When Varric introduces himself she stares at him and the silence stretches out so awkwardly that he feels a deep fear that the mark has destroyed her spirit in some capacity. He steps forward after the long pause and introduces himself.

"I am Solas, if there are to be introductions."

A crack appears trough the emotionless facade of her face.

"We should get to the breach." She says walking away, but her voice is shrill, and no one has the nerve to ask why she sounds like she's deflecting.

 

-

 

She doesn't speak for the duration of their efforts to reach the forward camp. When he mentions her Dalish origin, she turns to look at him, her expression so _startled_ , that he felt embarrassed at the question, as if he should not have spoken at all.

 

-

Cassandra halts them as they arrive, and the dull gaze on the girl actually sharpens to hawk-like intensity as she watches the Seeker tell them she was going to speak with someone and she'd be back within the hour.

"She going to go talk about me, isn't she?" The elf says with some dazed sort of fascination. She seemed bewildered by the apparent revelation.

Solas is suprised by how soft her voice is. She had barely spoken before - and certainty never initiated conversation on her own.

 Varric laughed nervously and Solas decided to say, "How can you tell?"

A burst of painful laughter emerged for her chest suddenly and then was gone.

"A guess." She whispers.

Thy stand awkwardly for many minutes, until yelling is heard from the general direction of Cassandra, Leliana, and a Chantry Chancellor Solas does not know. As the yelling continues, they realize they probably won't be leaving soon after all.

She surprises them again.

"I...I'm going to - I have to -"

She looks around desperately and then points towards the tree line of a near forest.

"I'm not running away." She says, "I just need ... To breath. Yeah."

Varric laughs, "That's definitely what someone who wasn't planning to run away would say. What air is over there that's not here?"

"It's not about air." She whispers, and maybe she seems so absolutely devastated that even he doesn't have the heart to argue with her.

She starts walking away, and a disjointed answer bubbles up from her chest, "it's probably a Dalish thing" she says, not looking back though it sounds forced and confused, like any excuse will do.

 

After a pause as they watched her fleeing back, Varric murmurs, "I don't want to have to tell Cass her prisoner escaped by walking away."

Neither does anything as they watch her retreating form slide effortlessly past the tree line.

-

After half an hour, bored of watching Varric tell the soldiers bad puns, Solas offers to go look for her.

"Yeah okay Chuckles, try not to get eaten by wolves." The dwarf says, waving him off.

- 

Of all things, he finds her curled up at the base of a tree, sobbing.

Despite himself, the relief he feels from the display of emotion is overwhelming.

Her spirit had survived intact after all.

She doesn't attempt to move or stop when she noticed him, in fact she might even curl up a little more.

"Are you well?" He says after a moment

She sobs, "I can't- I can't - I -I can't do it."

He hesitates, taking in the situation. Likely she is not used to being away from her clan - surrounded by humans or "flat ears" no less. He will have to be careful about his disdain for their culture. She has not wronged him yet, and is showing a very vulnerable part of herself. If he wishes the breach to be closed by someone if sound mind, he will have to act carefully - tactfully. After a pause, he sighs softly before he sits cross legged in front of her.

"You are not alone . You are closing the rifts with relative ease and learning quickly. "

She gulps in pained gasps of air, and for a moment he thinks she is laughing.

She finally continues, "What's the point?"

Baffled, he murmurs, "Saving the world is not enough?"

"You'll just rip it back down again" she says, with such abject misery as she wipes her eyes that for a moment Solas is sure he misunderstood.

"What?"

"The veil. Tear down the veil and everything I saved is lost so what's the point? You'll just end -" her voice cracks, "the world."

He freezes.

She knows? How? An agent of Corepheus after all? No of course not. Perhaps the orb had latent memories of him and she'd recognized him?

"No, no don't look at me like that please, no." She sobs when she sees his face.

He doesn't lower his hackles at first, but he forces himself to remain calm. She has not run screaming nor attacked him yet. Perhaps yet she can be talked to.

He might have a chance to wipe her mind. Difficult, and obvious, but the alternatives were worse -

Slowly he un-tenses outwardly - within he is a boiled knot of confusion and wariness. He gives her a hesitant nod to continue.

"Imagine," she whispers, "Imagine for a moment that we are ... are friends. That I care about you and not about that. Please. Pretend for a moment you understand." She begs him.

An arm unlocks from her chest.

"Please." She whimpers.

A timid hand reached out, and despite the surreality and the extreme seriousness of the situation, he grasps it.

Trembling fingers wind through his.

"I do not understand." He confesses

"I have lived this live before." She whispers.

Any replies dry up and die in his throat.

"A hundred times - a thousand? Cole used to be able to tell me. My despair is too much now. It's not safe for him to be around me."

She began to cry again.

"I can't do it anymore, Solas - I can't. I can't. I give up. No more - no more. I give in against the uncaring conspiracies of the universe. I _submit_." Her voice breaks.

Solas knows that line of the Dalish. He squeezes her hand for lack of a response and she begins to cry harder.

 

"You do not worry about -" he hesitated but she beat him to the punch.

 

"Corepheus is easy. But when you pull down the veil, I -" a crack, "I _always_ \- again her voice wavers, "- wake up in Haven. No matter what. I can't escape. I'm so tired, Solas. A thousand ways to try and stop it - stop you. Nothing works, nothing matters. I can't do it again."

His throat tightens with the implications of everything she says

She slings her other arm over her eyes and sobs as she says "I just wish I could  _die!_ "

It is not a confession. A whispered secret. It is a wail, anguish made physical. A need cried out.

What can be said? In the face of such abject, hopeless misery? Misery he caused - to someone he may well have come to care for.

Nothing.

Nothing could be said.

So instead he tugs on her hand and wraps his other arm under her, lifting her into his lap. She fits against his chest as if she's known the feel of it by nature. Perhaps she does.

He hesitates but eventually murmurs, hesitantly, knowing how despicable it sounds, "You have not just killed yourself before-hand?"

Those who did not understand what it was like - when life itself meet ceased to be a form of torture - of horror. Death became a promised land. A prize to be gained by suffering through.

He knew that reality well.

"A thousand lives, and nothing works. Where do you think I was before this? I was at peace!" She breaks, sobbing, "I was at _peace_!" It is a condemnation against him. An accusation.

Oh. No.

What had he done?

It would explain her reaction upon waking in Haven again.

How many times had he unwittingly forced her to relive this?

"What happens when the Veil is pulled down?" He says, just to make sure. Perhaps it is not what it seems. Time becomes fluid - perhaps she just accidentally slips through.

 _A thousand times?_ He thinks incredulously at himself, _A thousand times, slung through the **tiniest** cracks of the universe to the same **spot** on the same **day**?_

Well after a certain point it _could_ become self sustaining.

"It all resets. I can't do it anymore, so what now, Solas? What do I do?"

"I am so sorry." He whispers.

She makes small painful noises against his chest.

"Why me? Why?" She whimpers.

"I am sorry," he repeats, clutching her tightly as grief consumes her and guilt consumes him.

"I don't know what to do anymore." She says plaintively, fingers tugging at his sweater like a lost child, "Tell me what to do."

"Have you never told me before this?" He asks.

"I tried. I befriend you until you know you could trust me, until you knew I cared but -"

Her voice catches and she sucks in a rattling breath.

"But whenever you smiled at me I couldn't -"

She shook her head as his hopes plummeted.

"I couldn't tell you the truth. What you were doing to me. I couldn't do that to you."

His grip tightens. A thousand lives to build up resentment for the torture he inflicts and _this_?

Her response is compassion?

"Never?"

She cries harder, and shakes her head violently, but he can see it is someone denying something. A lie that cannot be spoken.

Why? Because she'd told him and he still...

Ah.

"I am sorry." He said, voice worn with regret for his future and past actions. For the unwitting victim who has suffered at his hands for a thousand lifetimes.

"I can't continue on anymore." She says, throat hoarse from tears.

She looked up at him. Wide eyes, pleading, bright.

Her next words chill his bones.

"The only way to stop it is to stop you."

She shakes her head at his expression, rushing to explain.

"I can't - not even if I wanted to - _if I had to_ \- I could never-"

Her face twists, eyes distant and tortured. For the blades she came so close to pressing to his chest. For the lives she could never choose to save instead.

"Even when I hated you." She sobs, "I...I...I couldn't." She held up her hands, body shaking with her sobs.

He holds her as she weathers the emotions, because he can do nothing else in the face of his actions.

Eventually her expression calmed and she slumped, empty.

"I could just not save the world in the first place. Let it suffer and sicken so I can have peace."

She sobs painfully once more, the lie unwilling to live, her non-marked hand clutching his shirt as her small frame was wracked with the force of her pain.

 

 

"We shall find a solution." He promises, "I will not do this to you again."


	3. The Serendipity of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU where Lavellan Inquisitor dies @ conclave, but has mark in Fade as a spirit being.

 

The first thing she remembers are screams.

She is not sure who is screaming. For one bright moment it is the clash of steel from a war she has never lived through, then it is the cries of a clan, the roar of fire, and she thinks her people are burning. Then the shapeless masses of her sight become human too, forms twisted in pain, arms reaching as voices rose higher as the fire rushes around them.

Around _her_.

And then she realizes she's the one screaming.

-

At first there is only that moment suspended around her, disjointed and pained, and though her voice should have given out, it rings out across the darkness, begging for relief from an agony that rends against her very nature, tearing at her very existence.

Eventually her voice does taper off, but not because her throat has failed.

The anguish of that single, rabid pain that threatens to engulf her finally subsides enough that the twitching, heaving world around her solidifies somewhat as her vision clears and she falls to her knees.

The pain is still extraordinary. It still suffuses her entire being, seeking out every particle of her spirit with the singular intent to invade.

But she is no longer in the throes of its grip. 

It had been a near thing - tugged between the forces of a maelstrom as it sought to destroy her and something inside her viciously fought back to survive.

If this can be called that.

 

One of her hands is on fire.

Is it a hand?

Is it a star?

 

With a traumatized sort of detachment, she twists the limb closer to herself in question, vaguely curious as to why the entire antithesis of her existence has come to reside in her palm, and why it seeks so completely to eradicate her, and what and where and how she is.

\--

She isn't sure what ... what anything.

There is. Around her.

A mist that settles over the distance, and a blot of dark thought in the sky where she expects something else.

 

And there are moments wreathed in flame and lightning, green as the meadows of Spring. They arch against the sky and worse - worse, the screaming has not stopped.

Whispers get too close and then the flame and lightning eat them, swallow them whole, and they scream in such agony that  _she_ is being torn apart and she forgets what is except she is at the beginning again and her hand is flame and lightning and it is eating her and there is the clash of metal and the smell of blood, and her people are screaming, and then humans are being burned alive, and then it is just her.

And she remembers to forget the dragon in her palm.

She stays away from the mouths in the sky, for fear of falling through, for fear of feeling their pain too sharply that she dies with them.

She needs to get away.

 

She needs to be... to her clan. She does not know what a clan is, what  _her's_ is, only a faint idea of painted faces, but then she remembers screaming and she has to stop trying to remember because it hurts.

 

She must not be here. She must not  _be_ here.

 

She needs to get away.

——

His attempts to remove the anchor had been in vain.

Nothing he did - weak as he was - could have hoped to dissuade it from its task.

He felt her spirit be burned viscerally from her body, face calm, breathing soft, soul screaming in agony as it was rent apart by forces it could never have hoped to resist.

A fate crueler than the death she eventually suffered, body growing cold to the touch only after the anchor had obliterated everything within her, flickering faintly before it too was lost.

 

Another of the countless victims of his actions. At every turn he seemed only to create destruction.

 

And still it hung in the sky, spewing demons shrieking as they were ripped apart and thrown into another world.

 

He had not thought it possible to so completely annihilate life as he had before - at least not without bringing down the Veil.

But it seemed only a part of the Veil had to be torn before utter chaos descended and they were all crushed by the terror he had unwittingly released.

And still no sign of Corepheus.

 

Cassandra blames him for her death, of course.

Believes he conspired to kill the one responsible for the Breach.

Only the other healer who had worked tirelessly beside him prevents her from announcing his arrest, coming to his defense in earnest.

 

He does not have the energy.

 

He had not even begun his work, and already he had brought uncertain end to the world.

 

To say he is defeated at that moment, sitting across from her prone and silent body, is an understatement.

 

How he wishes he could beg her forgiveness for the torment she suffered at his hands, for his schemes, because he was a fool.

 

How he wishes he could have granted her even the painful but quick deaths everyone else at the Conclave had suffered.

 

And this Dalish elf, those last pitiful remnants of the People, will have her memory disgraced and slandered in his name. In his own foolish bid to save the People, he destroyed them, time and time again.

 

If only there was someone to save the People from him.

 

\--

If the world were fair - a joke in and of itself - he would announce the truth, allow Cassandra to put him on trial for his crimes, and hang.

 

But there is a gaping wound in the Veil, and the People need him now, and so it is not fair, and this nameless Dalish elf will take his blame and his hatred, and her family will suffer for his actions.

He had tried - and failed - to close the rifts. A fool grasping at the straws of his own power, desperately trying to fight the rushing tide of his choices with a stick in a world unforgiving to the Fade.

His only recourse was to leave these blundering, doomed people, to rejoin his network and begin the arduous and immediate process of fixing the hole in the sky.

 

But the Seeker will not allow him to simply leave. Her eyes are sharp, her mind is steel, and she knows better than to trust him, even if he has escaped her immediate blame and interrogations, she would sooner see him tranquil than escaped.

 

And in this cursed future of his own bringing, he sees enough people severed from the Fade already.

 

Running will cost them all in the end. The Seeker is like a hound, and will give chase when he flees, forgetting to find the scent of the true culprit, to seek out Corepheus. Not that she would survive the encounter in any case.

 

But this newfound Inquisition will have enough struggles to overcome without setting aside resources to try and track  _him_ down.

 

He has no other alternatives, however. He cannot do his work here, under the guise of a simple hedge mage, surrounded by Chantry forces no less. The resources, the energy, the trust and agents he needs are not here, where every gaze holds disdain and the eyes fasten coldly on his ears or his staff.

 

So, with little recourse, he slips away in the night.

 

 

-

She is wandering - away from the hungry mouths - touching little moments strewn around her, finding words for things she finds.

At her heel, round and firm,  _stone_. It is smooth, and it does not scream like the faint voices.

At her shoulder, tall and warm,  _tree_. It lives, but its mind is too far away to reach, and the other ones she'd seen and met, they drove her away because of the fire and lightning in her palm.

 

The tree does not drive her away.

 

How she aches to get away from here. This place of emerald phantoms and visions.

  
The Fade.

 

She'd remembered it's name, but also The Dreaming, and that must be what she was.

 

Dreaming.

 

How she wished to wake, to fly into the arms of her _babae_. She did not remember that word yet, but she knew that babaes were soft and warm and strong and gentle.

 

And this world seemed so cold and strange.

 

Sometimes even her hand would scream at her, and the mouths would scream with it, because it was hungry and they were hungry and then the other bright ones would run from her.

 

She remembered that she had a clan, and some faces and some names, and the shaking hands of children when they cut their first rabbit pelt, and the soft eyes of the halla, and the smoky lullabies under a sky of stars.

 

There are no stars in the sky here. There is a shape of blackness and empty loss, that hangs in the sky and hurts to look at.

 

She misses the stars. She misses them so much that she might cry, and when she does her tears turn to lights, paltry things to true stars, suspended in the air around her until she waves them away. Everything here is bright and green, but not in a friendly way. She misses warmth, she misses true light, that cuts through the murky mists and twisting rocks and jagged shapes. That drives away the screaming ones who try to tear at her until they touch her hand and flee.

Demons.

 

Not even demons will keep her company.

 

So when she sees a brightness, a star caught in the midst of this bizarre and terrifying place, she cannot help but run towards it.

\--

He has been fleeing for two days. He had not dared rest until now, knowing Cassandra scoured every rock and stone on every hill and in every cave.

Only now, that he had found a ruin familiar to him, and a hidden room within its walls that was safe and warded against even the spiders that crawled its many cavities, did he close his eyes, exhausted.

The Fade is as familiar and inviting as always, at first.

But the rifts dotting the landscape, and the absence of even the friendly wisps makes the return a dour one.

 

Was it that only to those he sought to protect he could do nothing other than destroy? 

 

He left the ruin, in the Fade then a glorious temple, dedicated to a human faith other than the Chantry, and ventured away, not sure what he sought but hoping to find peace in any form he could.

 

As was often the case with the Dreaming, time moved fluidly, twisting to accommodate the mind of all who entered. No matter how he had changed in the past year, he could not change the nature of his very existence - the hundreds of decades he had lived, in a time where one could spend a year watching a flower bloom, even though he had been considered impatient by his kin. Time slowed considerably in the Fade, a bittersweet chance to remember how the world once was, letting him experience as much of the Fade as he could before had to wake.

 

 

He is dreaming and Lavellan spirit approaches him bc she had met all these spirits and they weird and he’s different and his soul is bright but also outside the fade and she (doesn’t say it) wants to get out of the fade, for some reason. (I need to)

He’s like, Oh?What are you?

and then, slightly cheerful, “Most spirits are gone from this area having fled in light of the Breach. I had not expected amiable company.”

Asks about breach. he asks why she stayed, she says she couldn’t leave (doesn’t say how much she wants to) “ i think I may die here.".

She’s like, ‘bro ur soul is like crying u ok?"

He’s like, “So inquisitive! Perhaps you are a spirit of curiosity. There would be few spirits otherwise compelled to stay.”

Then he like breaks down and he’s like, “I fucked up.”

She tries to comfort him but he wakes up when he realizes someone is nearby.

—  
she finds him again - farther away, and her mark aches the further she gets from the Breach. He is far more reserved, slumped and drained.

“What happened to you?”

He laughs grimly, “I am being pursued.”

“You tire?”

“In many a manner of speaking.”

she pauses, then decides perhaps being straightforward will be useful.

She doesn’t know why she wants to help so badly.

A feeling, nostalgic, a slight memory of healing little cuts and scrapes, ducking under flaps to check on people, worrying about someones future, offering advice because that was what her mentor had done for her. There are no voices, no faces to the memory feeling.

She just feels it is her duty.

To keep people safe, to help them.

Keep...

“Are you well?”

He exhales, then - “I am not.” He says softly.

“In mind, body, or soul?” She wonders.

He gives a short, brittle laugh, “To be unwell in one is to cause unwellness in others. I am unwell on all three fronts at the moment.” His expression hardens.

“Why?”

“The answer would be complicated.”

“Often the reason for trouble is simple. It is the solution that usually tends to be more complex. Until it is perhaps overbearingly convoluted.” She says, dispensing the wisdom she feels someone had told her once before.

He tilts his head at her.

“You are perhaps not a spirit of Curiosity after all.” He says in surprise.

Then the dream fades.

——  
next dream they talk about things, what she might be.

They realize she might be love?

he describes what happened at the breach, and she remembers who she is and what happened.

dream suddenly starts to dissolve -  
Cassandra has found him.

 

-  
she is a dreamer. Her body died because they buried her, however, and so she finds Cole and he helps her take on a physical form.

-  
comes back for solas


	4. The Wolf and The Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU where when Solas tears down the Veil everything resets for Lavellan. Even her body.

Deus - No, she’d gone by Bitter for years - came too and heard a small groan. _You sound like shit, my friend,_ she thought, then chuckled under her breath. Immediately pain shot through her aching body and she dissolved into fits of coughing, followed by a low moan.

 _Oh shit, that was _me__. She broke into more pained laughter, edging on hysteria, and cracked an eye open. She felt worse than, well… okay possibly nothing could feel worse than the day she got the anchor, but this was extremely close.

A grungy, fuzzy image of a cell greeted her.

 _Oh great,_ she groaned, _a fucking cell. As if I haven’t seen enough of _those_ to last me a life time_. The sigh she gave was less from pain and more from a sense of being put upon by the universe. The last thing she remembered was…

_Shit._

She sat up suddenly, and the rush of blood to her head caused her to sway slightly with a whimper. She bit the insides of her lip furiously, tasting blood, but she couldn’t take back the noise of weakness. _Please don’t let him have heard that._ Of course he’d heard that. He was the damn Dread Wolf. He could probably hear her thoughts right now. It was just her luck, wasn’t it?

When the dizziness abated - the migraine had not, though - she took some few deep breaths, leaning her head gently against the wall. Her hands were manacled together, oddly reminiscent of her first foray into the crazy venture of being Herald. Her fingers twitched, but she dared not move, not even to test the bonds, because she would be too loud and everything hurt.

She didn’t feel immortal or suddenly possessing great magic that the Elvehan supposedly had. What was this bullshit?

And he _had_ done it, of that she was sure.

The fucking bastard had done it. Blown the Veil to bits. Well, she assumed. Torn it to shreds, unbuttoned it to pieces, whatever floated one’s metaphorical boat, she wasn’t in the mind state to disagree.

Point was, Solas - _Fen’Fucking’Harel_ \- had succeeded. Probably. Bitter would be the first to point out that most of his plans didn’t really seem to do that. Well, no, that wasn’t giving him enough credit. True, he had managed to lock away the Evanuris and prevent them from destroying the world. Bit with Elvhenan empire dying away without the Fade to sustain them was just an unfortunate side effect. And again, sure, Corepheus had unlocked Solas’ orb so that he, too, could use it, but, just a tiny problem, he nearly destroyed the world since he didn’t die from it.

So yes, Bitter was absolutely sure that Solas had managed to pull apart or turn off or misplace the Veil. She was just waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.

A clattering from down the hall revealed that she should have been waiting for the literal shoe to drop as well. Someone was approaching, and hastily.

She felt her heart clamoring around in her chest. Maybe it had gotten fucked and they thought it was her fault - those lovely Chantry folk. Maybe Solas no longer needed to pretend he loved her any more. It really depended on who she was imprisoned by.

It didn’t matter anymore anyways. She gave up. Right now. She was free, from the burdens this stupid crazy world was constantly placing on her. From having to fight him. No more. She’d fought him for their sakes, against every fibre of her being, and had failed. It was over. She was done doing things for people. She would do things for herself from now on.

Assuming she didn’t get executed.

No -

What if someone else was going to blame her for the Veil? It happened often enough. Especially with her luck.

Happened to get a cursed hand. Happened to have to fight Corepheus. Happened to fall in love with the Dread Wolf. The idea of Varric writing a book about her used to unnerve her. Now she felt suddenly, blessedly free. _Yes, read all about my miserable, ridiculous life. May it bring you laughter on a day when you feel like your own sucks. May it make you feel better about your shitty circumstances when nothing else will. As least you didn’t get abandoned by your Heart, only to find out he supposedly loved you but couldn’t be with you -_

They were probably going to condemn and kill her.

But oh fuck no, _that_ wasn’t fair. She’d tried to stop the idiot. Three days was not nearly enough time to plot the downfall of a god, even if he was your ex-boyfriend and lover. He’d had two years of her thinking he was being a hermit in the Fade or dead to get everything together.

She heard keys jangle and drew on a deep pool of resentment. It wasn’t hard. Her name had been Bitter for two years now.

The expression of disagreeableness that grew on her face startled and fell away in shock when the door was yanked open to reveal… _Cassandra?_

The blank look of surprise melted into relief.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now!"

Then the furious Seeker stormed up to her, eyes glinting dangerously, and she felt the smile gathering on her face disappear.

———

 

“…Cas?”

“Don’t you dare speak my name with such familiarity!” The Seeker spat.

The look of confusion turned to complete and utter astonishment. She didn’t even notice Leliana slip into the room, she was so preoccupied with staring up at her friend like she’d grown an extra head.

Cassandra snarled and moved to strike the dumbfounded elf, but Leliana could see the hopelessness beginning to claw its way on their prisoner’s face, and moved to intercept, “Cassandra, we need her.”

No, no, no, that wasn’t right. This… this was…

Something was wrong.

“Do you not remember who I am? We’re…” The elf paused, uncertainty suddenly flashing over her face, “Fri..ends?” Hurt and doubt curled so plainly over her features that Leliana could knew only the most skilled of liars would be able to pull it off.

That caused Cassandra to stumble in her fury.

———  
Cass doesn’t believe her, Leliana intervenes, they commence with the taking outside bit

Bitter contemplates reciting Cassandra's words back at her, does so, which freaks Cassandra out so she stops and shrugs

“How did you do that?” Cassandra hisses, then her eyes narrowed, “Blood magic?"

She began laughing and then tapered off when Cassandra’s expression turned terrifying.

“I just... know you really well.” Bitter sighs, shrugging despite the iron weight of Cassandra’s hand clamped around one of her arms. She was resolutely refusing to panic. _No more creepy Cole mind reading I guess_.

Cassandra’s gaze stays sharp and predatory. Nope. Not panicking. Not even a little.

“I’m not even a mage.” She added with a snort.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes, “I can sense your mana, apostate. Do not _lie_ to me.”

Bitter stopped so suddenly that she forced even Cassandra to halt.

“That - that’s stupid.” She said, baffled, “I’m a fucking warrior. Did you not find an axe with me?”

Cassandra coughed coloring slightly, “We found… you were naked when you fell from the rift. There was nothing to identify you with. Besides - you do not have the body of a warrior.”

Bitter made an affronted noise, but fear was niggling in the back of her mind. Her skin was lighter - her hair shorter.

Did that mean - but no. She wouldn’t come out of a rift with a new _body_ right?

Right?

She looked down at the slim hands. Palms open - no calluses from a sword grip. Nails too neat for a warrior. She swallowed a rising sense of panic.

She _was_ still an elf, right?

Cassandra was watching the growing anxiety on her face, so she schooled her expression and managed a “Well I’d offer to show you I know how to use an axe, but you’d probably say no.” She jangled the manacles together for emphasis, “Unless you’re gonna take these off?”

Cassandra scowled, “They may come off, but you will have _no_ opportunities to get your hands on a weapon until _after_ the trial, if at all.”

Bitter gave a melancholic sigh at the unwitting lie, and she knows she failed at keeping her expression neutral because Cassandra gives her an odd glance.

“I’m still not a fucking _mage_.” She mumbles.

“You cannot hide your mana from me.” Cassandra states simply, pulling her along.

Bitter decides to drop it.

She was in a new body, after all.

————————————

Then her throat goes dry as she watches him, striking out agains the rift and the demons around them. Time seems to still.

Then Cassandra rushes past her, jarring her shoulder, and then the loud sincerity of the moment hits her, the screams of the demons and the sound of clashing metal.

The barrier she casts before she even thinks of it. And yet she sees the surprise flit over their faces as it descends upon them, Varric shrug it off, perhaps assuming it was Solas, the magic a familiar mantle, Cassandra startle and then continue fighting, recognizing the magic was friendly but the demons around them were not.

Him, face going slack with surprise.

His eyes search her out instantly.

His gaze sharpens, pierces her. Seeking out the thread of mana in her that binds them through her barrier.

A demon catches that same scent and screeches as it makes its approach. It swings wide and she ducks, thrusting her blunt staff into its torso, imagining fire ripping at its insides. She feels the drain on her energy, but the demon screams and grabs her.

Something different in her remembers. She grabs the wooden shield lying discarded on the ground and bashes the creature with it, her arm remembering the way a weapon it had never held works.

It drops her just as a blast of fire rocks it backwards.

She grunts, rolling over and slowly getting up as the others charge it.

This body is different.

But it seems she remembers her warrior training.

She barely has time to realize that before a hand fastens itself around her wrist and tugs her up. She stumbles, from shock and _he’s there, he’s right **there** he’s too close_ -

“Quickly!” He yells, “The mark!”

Then he thrusts her arm forwards and she snaps the power towards the rift. It roars as it is tugged closed.

It takes that much of her very frayed self control not to slug him squarely in the jaw.

 

/////  
“what is your name?”

Deus regarded them grimly for a moment. She had the good grace not to let her gaze flicker over to Solas, but it was a near thing.

“Bitter.” She said softly, then at the sigh from the dwarf to her side, she tilted her head to look him in the eye with a dead grin, “But I am amiable to Twigs.”

Varric hummed his approval.

 

\----  
“Is this funny to you?” He’d said it sharply, furiously.

“I have learned” Twigs said carefully, “That you are given only two options in this little life of ours. To laugh,” there was a gnarled and dead branch in her hands, color faded from exposure to air, "or to cry. And to reject the former is the devote yourself to the later.”

She turned the branch over and over, eyes on the crooked, brittle leaves bobbing from the motion.

“So yes,” She murmured, and Solas could see in that one moment a great and terrible pain was gathering in her eyes, “I think this is funny.”

The fingers trembled slightly, stopping, a slight, twitching frown grew on her face, and the voice that emerged wobbled very slightly, on the precipice of breaking, a slight ripple in a pond, “Hilarious, in fact."

She dropped the branch suddenly, and before the leaves had settled on the cobbled stones, she had turned her heel sharply and made a retreat. Solas did not fool himself into believing she fled him. It made no difference that he had been standing there, otherwise she would have acknowledged him when she left. But she didn’t.

He might as well have been a gust of air to her.

Or so she let him think.

————

S: Wasn’t there anything you wanted to do without me?  
B: I was going to paint. Like a lot. I loved painting. Not murals. But colors. I liked colors. I used to think I could do the vallaslin art for my clan. Ha. Ha ha ha. Not anymore, I guess.

S:...

B: And I was going to explore the fade. With you. Maybe. I thought that might happen, even before we were…  
B: Or puppies . I was going to raise an army of wolves. With you, without you. That one seemed good until.  
*shakes head *  
...  
B: I really wanted to learn to make tea.

S: Tea?

B: I wanted to make a tea you would like. Nice tea. Good tea. That seemed meaningless and simple enough to waste time on. That had seemed good. The sort of thing Nobles learn to do when they’re bored with health and power. Raise obscure plants in your garden that don’t taste all that good and make shitty tea. Yeah.

—  
B: Someone told me once that if you dont define people by their physical traits over their personal ones you shouldn’t have trouble with spirits. Like, um, Cass’ cheekbones or Varric’s chest hair.  
S: Sounds wise.  
B:!  
B:NO  
B:NO HE WAS A FUCKIN EGG U WOULD HAVE HATED HIM

 

—  
Cullen and Joesephine: *turn to Twig simultaneously*  
MAGES OR TEMPLARS  
Twig: Uh  
Twig: *looks at staff*  
Twig:!  
Twig:*turns to look straight at Solas*  
Twig: teMPLARS  
Twig:DEFINITELY TEMPLARS  
Twig: H HA HAAA

(Twig gets the point of second play throughs ;o )

 

—  
solas likes the frilly cakes  
pass it on

-  
Solas: She’s impulsive, lackadasickal, rude, reckless, irresponsible, childish -  
Varric: Maybe that’s the point.  
Varric: Maybe that’s the whole point, Chuckles.  
Varric: She doesn’t act that way around anyone but you.  
Varris: Well, you and Templars, I guess.  
Solas: I haven’t done anything to her.  
Varric: Doesn’t seem like she feels the same.

 

\---


	5. The Girl Who Cried Dread Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Au where Lavellan goes back in time and realizes that the only way Solas would ever let her join him is if she told him she knew who he was and wanted to help from the beginning but never told him the complete truth.

 

She does not smile, instead wears a semi-permanent half frown, as if she is always trying to unravel the people before her, and never quite understands as much as she wishes. Solas can relate to that.

-

she corners him as they’re making their way up to the Breach and come to a rest at the forward camp as the spymaster and the seeker argue with the chancellor.

She pulls him to a small secluded clearing in the fringes of the wood. Solas had not explored the land enough yet to be familiar with such little secret pockets, but the ease with which she found it suggested otherwise for Cassandra’s “prisoner”. She was far from home, and yet, here, a little Haven all its own - for the amount of elfroot that grew there was almost astounding.

He was curious as to what she could possibly have to say to him. He was not looking forward to some reference to him being an elf - or, honestly, to him being a mage. Stereotypes and inane questions about magic were things he had a hard time reacting fairly to.

Perhaps she had a question about the anchor?

 

(them going in details about her face, his current status, chilly wind, etc, describe the grove itself. she bends and immediately grabs arm fulls of elf root here and here, growing truly like weeds and stuffing them into a rug sack. for herself? for the inquisition? for their party?)

Finally she stands, tying the sack firmly closed with some twine and turns towards him.

“I know who you are, Harellan.”

His blood runs cold.

For her part, her eyebrows only raise when he tightens his grip on his staff.

“I am sure I do not know what you mean.” He says, eyeing the borders of the grove.

She rolls her eyes, “No one else around. No need to pretend."

“What do you plan to do?” He says stiffly.

She was Dalish, so that meant she was perhaps planning to capture him. Kill him? He did not want her to find out he could die like any other mortal when stabbed through the heart. Perhaps even torture him, then. Or if she was truly wary of him, force him out - exile him? He would probably have to flee anyways. Should he stay for the conversation or knock her out and then Fade Walk as far as possible?

At the very least, he could hope no one believed her if she began to cry “Dread Wolf” to Chanty mothers.

She cocked her eyebrows again, “I would ask you the same.”

His lips thinned.

They both knew he needed her in order to at least attempt to close the Breach. Giving him this information when he’d never have suspected she knew otherwise seemed rash - but she did not strike him as the cocky type. She did not overvalue herself, which meant she truly believed she was the only one who could close the Breach.

Killing her was out of the question. Attempting to intimidate her when she already seemed unfazed would likely have disastrous results.

Dare he try and make her forget? Her will seemed too strong for that to work, weak as he was now. He could attempt to take back the anchor, but the result would likely leave him incapacitated and probably kill her. His agents were too far for him to have her kidnapped in time. He would have been able to decide on what to do then.

She tilted her head, and the frown she seemed to always wear tapered just slightly upwards, as if one of the puzzles she was constantly struggling with had played itself out predictably for once.

He narrowed his eyes but before he could comment on it, she sighed, “You are naturally preoccupied with worst-case scenarios, I see.”

She said it in such a way that he could hear a touch of - what, resignation? As if he’d done something unsurprising yet disappointing all at once. And under that, something else - a tired, sharpened edge.

He straightened, “What would you suggest?"

“Alternatives that don’t revolve around one of us dying or disappearing under mysterious circumstances?”

He nearly scowled, but caught himself in time.

“Perhaps you would care to enlighten me.” He said, attempting to keep the frost from his voice unsuccessfully.

“I don’t have to hinder you, Fen’Harel.” She said patiently.

“No,” He snapped, beginning to circle her. His title being said out loud in what he considered hostile territory put him on edge. “Certainly not. Perhaps I am over thinking it. Of course a Dalish warrior would look forward too helping the Dread Wolf.” It was no small feat to keep himself from snarling, but that point caused him little pride.

She chuckled too quietly for him to hear, but she did not watch him as he prowled around her. Not comfortable by any means, but she seemed at ease.

“I could be a valuable asset.” She agreed.

He stopped in shock, “You are mocking me.” He said blankly.

This caused her to actually laugh, a short, weary sound. “I should perhaps mention that I also know your plans.” She added.

His limbs turned to lead, a pit of roiling dread rolling in his gut.

His hand may be forced in killing her after all.

Her gaze darted up to him, and she put her hands up in slight appeasement.

“I have not attacked you nor declared you a bane to the living, have I? Obviously fighting you is not my intent.” She pressed.

So blackmail it was, then.

That was manageable. Blackmail he could handle.

He would hear her terms, keep a close eye on her. If she asked for too much or seemed to break any agreement, he would have her killed. Preferably after the Breach was sealed.

He straightened.

“Very well. What do you want in return for your silence?” He said, attempting to keep his voice calm and cold.

She rolled her eyes upwards and snorted, “Of all the -“ she mumbled to herself.

Then she sighed and seemed to recollect herself.

“I want to help you remake the world you seek.”

He stared at her, not even shocked yet, for he didn’t believe it for a moment.

“You - but I am…” Would revealing his plans to her be a good idea? What if she only knew a portion? What then?

She stared at him steadily, gaze grim.

“I will end your people to reinstate mine.” He said darkly, “Have no doubts on this.”

She tilted her head at him, completely unperturbed by this information.

“But…why?” He said in confusion.

Her expression cleared in slight amusement, “Oh, don’t doubt that I may on occasion feel the passing urge to attempt to compel you towards a different course of action. But If I cannot do that, then I have every inclination to help you succeed in it."

“So this is… if you cannot alter your fate you mean to have a hand in controlling it?” He attempted to understand.

“I - what? Why would I want control -?” She stared at him in annoyed bafflement before she seemed to realize he was attempting to put it together.

“My motives may be beyond you.” She said dryly, “Don’t hurt yourself trying to figure them out. Just know that they lead me true. There will come no day I will choose to betray you, if that is what you fear.”

He appraised her, curious, but before he could come to any definitive decision, they heard the call of an Inquisition scout. They turned towards to noise, him instantly tensing.

She inclined her head at him slightly, her eyes asking him a question he was not prepared to answer.

“I… don’t know.” He said finally, “There are considerations.”

“Of course.” She agreed, “Take all the time you need.”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment before she turned her head sharply and marched towards the solider. The action startled him, and he might have struck her with his staff for fear she meant to betray his secret - but the irrational fear dissipated instantly, especially with how boldly she approached the human, pushing through the undergrowth without fear.

She paused, turning back towards him, as if she had remembered something.

"I ask for only one thing in return.”

“What?” he says warily, posture stiff.

“Never ask me how I know. I - it’s personal.” She said finally, her expression flickering with faint pain for just a moment.

He could only nod mutely, not trusting himself to speak.

She watched him for a moment before turning back and calling out to the scout, lifting up the sack of elfroot.

“Sorry! Went looking for supplies, lost track of time, you know…”

They approached the scout as she gave her excuses and they were taken back to camp.

Realizing she wasn’t trying to reveal his secrets, Solas simply watched and tuned out the majority of the conversation, trying to understand the sudden turn of events.

-

 

breach and etc.

-

she says something off handed that makes him salty, so he says something in reply and adds da’len

he’d never seen her smile before, with such sparkling mirth behind her eyes

 

-  
Cole tilted his head, “A touch of resignation, a dash of disappointment, a pinch of familiarity, and under that, the tired edge of affection. He always was grim and fatalistic."

Solas turned to look at him curiously, but Lavellan laughs. For one moment, her laughter is bright in the rotunda, as if it is touching the walls. “That’s true.” She agrees as she passes his desk. Then her mirth is gone, following her out of the room, into the corridor, where it fades away.

Cole doesn’t expand past that.

 

-  
Cole hums, “She lost her Heart for you.”

Solas stiffened in surprise, but she was gone, the tent flap wide for but a moment as he caught her fleeing form. Then stillness settled over them, mage and spirit.

Cole didn’t answer his questions about how she had lost her vhenan for him.

Perhaps it didn’t matter how it happened in the end.

Only that it had.

-  
“You… I am… all this time?” He finally managed.

She gave a little sob, “You wouldn’t let me help you. You told me you didn’t want me to see what you became. Which was cruel. That was cruel, Solas. Because the only alternative left for me was to die or to fight you and neither of us wanted me to do either.”

She put her face in her hands, soft noises escaping between her fingers as her shaking shoulders braced against her cries.

“The only way you would ever let me help was if you didn’t care that I saw. And the only reason you wouldn’t care if I saw was if you didn’t love me in the first place, but trusted me enough to use me.”

She looked up finally, eyes glinting in the dark, tears shining.

“What else was I going to do?"

\------


	6. The White Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU where it wasn’t Divine Justinia who pulled you through the Fade...  
> Time Magic Shenanigans (Aka Alternative re-telling)

She was standing with her back to her room, arm behind her back, pretending that the ache in her missing limb wasn’t making her dizzy. She was staring out over the white expanse of the mountains surrounding Skyhold, but she saw nothing. Her throat was constricted, and it was taking all of her will power to stand still, even though she was having trouble breathing. No one could see her, but that was why it mattered. Like she had told Leliana when her agent betrayed them, it was now, especially, that you had to cling to the morals that defined you. Except it was not morals she clung to but image. Even alone she could not let go, lest she fall apart completely.

 _I_ _think_ , she tells herself, jaw locked, heart thundering in her chest irrationally, _I think I am having a panic attack_.

That had never happened before. She would have laughed, maybe internally, but she knew why. She’d disbanded the Inquisition only hours ago. And she was terrified. She didn’t know how to help him, how to help them. How could she save the world from a god?

How could she save that god from himself?

Eventually the tension in her limbs unwound, and the thunder of her heart beat and the rush of her blood in her ears quieted enough that she could hear the winds outside.

She still didn’t know what she would do.

It had been three days.

_She had no idea of what to do._

She’d seen him in a dream. For the first time since… since years ago.

He had been a wolf, standing atop a frozen bank, watching her.

The panic that braced through her dream, the pain, the anguish. She'd known then. It had only been three days since he revealed himself. But though his expression had revealed nothing, she'd felt it settle deep into her bones. Not her emotions, not her horror.

She'd known then. She'd felt more than heard his thoughts - his warning.

This will be the last time.

He'd stayed there, frozen, gaze never leaving her. As if he sought to soak in her image one last -

It had been too much. She’d woken up.

Disbanded the Inquisition.

And now she looks outside her window, no longer the Inquisitor.

Then she sees it outside at the edges of the mountain tops.

It is not immediate, though it spreads quickly - there is no noise - not from this distance. But a numbness eclipses her as she watches green start to fall across the sky, parting and pouring and cutting through - _oh_.

Cutting through the veil.

In her mind she sees the look of desperation in his gaze, even as a wolf, the horror that had bade he seek her out.

One last time.

“Oh, Solas.” She whispers, watching the world end.

It should be simple. It should be fine.

Gone in a moment.

Everything she loved, everything she helped build.

But at least this could not be a terrible end.

 

She walks over to her bed, looks over her room, the tapestries hanging, the stories from Varric, and letters from Dorian, and drawings from Sera, tacked to the wall. The bones Cole had collected for her. The little carven halla Blackwall had given her. The bookmarked _Swords And Shields_ Cassandra had secretly given her.

 

She would never finish it now.

 

For one moment she wishes desperately to believe in that Maker of hers. Friends with the Divine and still not truly a believer. That she had been properly indoctrinated into that religion without fear and pain and the complete unknown. To be one of the Inquisition scouts who still accidentally called her Herald some days. To think - to know - that there was something else after this ended.

 

Perhaps that was the cruelest thing Solas had done. Take away her hope - her faith in something more.

 

She was calm and placid as she started at the wall, tears starting to well up and break over her expressionless face. Her heart thundered, begging her to race down the stairs, to find them, to grab close these people she so cherished. 

 

But what would it matter? She wouldn't find them in time. And half of them were across the world right now. 

 

She wasn't crying because it was over. She was crying because it was useless. The urge, the ache to see them all again, to hold them and say goodbye - it meant nothing because she couldn't have it. A dry sob escaped her. 

She would never get to say goodbye.

 

And if Cassandra or Cullen or Josie had their head bent over a book or was looking over the map or scrawling a note?

 

How dare she disturb them, in these last few moments of life, how dare she strike sudden horror into their hearts. If they didn't know it was coming, she wanted to leave them as much time with peace as possible. She didn't want them paralyzed with this same fear.

 

She cried, silently, climbing onto her bed. The ugly noises and tears stopped after a couple moments - she'd already wasted all of her shock three days ago sobbing over Solas' return.

 

She breathes quietly, watching the green overtake the sky outside her window. She can hear it now - a faint roar.

 

At least it will be quick. Painless, if they're lucky. She wonders if they've noticed it yet. If it's reached Tevinter - or Kirkwall. Perhaps if there is no Maker, her spirit will seek theirs out.

 

The thought brings her a little peace. 

Her window only shows green. She closes her eyes, making herself relax as the inevitable draws closer. 

And then the phantom pain in her missing limb turns to agony.

She screams, eyes flying open, watches the Fade drawing near, but her vision is blurred and she has crumpled on the ground somehow.

 

And then it is white.

  
————————

 

She is being pulled though space. Everything is a whirl lost to the dull roar, blurring past, even though it is only whiteness, she has the oddest clarity about the situation - she is being pulled through the Fade towards something. It is so strong, she knows it is not an individual - not even thousands of them. There is something exact about it, something undeniable. It is the pull of gravity tugging her towards a final point.

 _I never quite imagined death like this,_ she muses.

Then she realizes parts of her are being pulled off in the speed. It is disconcerting - almost nauseating, almost morbidly fascinating. A moment of panic that she is being reduced, but she realizes it is just flesh, bone, and blood. As if the rush was destroying all of her physical characteristics because they were not necessary - or rather, no attempt was made to preserve them because of it.

Like grime washing off a blade in the thrashing current of a river.

She lost her legs, and her arms. Though a point of green was threaded through one of them that stayed constant, anchored to her being. She lost her legs, and eventually her face must have gone, because her eyes went and she saw differently.

She became a point of light, condensed, like a star chained to some distant moment.

She remembers how he said people were not defined by their bodies and is momentarily reassured.

Then she begins to notice warps, changes in the white. Green and brown muddle the eyes, flashes of sky. At one point she swears she hears a voice cut off by the speed at which she leaves it behind.

And then she realizes the pull is slowing.

Colors, phantom structures, the silhouettes of people - she begins to see a world shaping underneath her as she goes past, growing in physicality, until it drags at her essence.

_This…this cannot be right._

And then the pull stops.

She is so high.

So terribly high in the sky, looking down.

And the scene begins to shift and bubble beneath her.

Oh.

_Why -?_

A hulking creature offers up a smaller one, but she knows them, even from this angle, even without their features.

**“ _ _Slay the elf__.”**

It rings out, old and familiar, Corepheus' voice echoing amongst the rubble.

Justinia bats the orb away.

_Why is she watching this?_

A figure rushes forward to clutch it, and then suddenly there is agony again.

She screams, pleads, cries out against it.

She is falling, rushing, still white, but now she has arms, head, legs, body.

She plummets to the ground, unhurt by the fall, but pain makes it hard for her to even think.

“ _What are you trying to tell me?_ ” she screams.

The anchor burns, it and her hand had only been gone three days, but it pools in her being like a vengeful star.

She watches herself try to escape, scrabbling up the rock after Justinia. At the top, empty space waits.

Where is the rift? There was supposed to be a rift there.

The mark sears in her flesh not real.  
There was supposed to be a rift, right there, right at the top of the mountain.

They are getting closer, dark things scuttling after them up the rocks.

The anchor burns.

 

There is nothing there. They're going to die. They're going to get to the top and be consumed. Why is she watching this?

 

A black spidery thing screeches and grabs hold of one of her other self's legs. She gives a cry and kicks back at it, sending it rolling down the slope as others swarm to take its place.

Justinia has almost reached the top. 

 

Something rises up above her - a beastly shadow, right at the top, a scorpion tail poised and ready to strike the Divine down in the next moment. 

 

She reaches a white hand forward through the pain towards the mortal precariously perched at the top.

 

The being screams as its ripped apart by the rift that opens up inside it.

 

Justinia reaches the rift.

 

And her form begins to decentegrate upon entering.

She watches herself far behind, trying to reach it also.

Justinia’s form is caught on the edges of the rift, tearing at her.

 

_No, no, no that is not what happened._

 

This isn't how it's supposed to happen. 

 _It is the fade_ , Solas’ voice seems to echo in her mind, _they are all true._

She rushes forward ,suddenly standing, striding up the slope in a blur, and unhooks Justinia - a collection of wisps.

Where her hands touch her spirit, it burns with _Faith_.

So the spirit had been Justinia, once, after all.

It looks at her without eyes.

“So you could not stop him this time, either?” It says.

 

————

 

She lets it go, something awful curling in her veins. No, no no no.

 

But she knows.

  
A horrible sense of dread fills her gut.

 

She knows.

 

It seems they never _did_ find out who the woman behind her in the Fade was after all.

 

She turns to look out of the rift and sees herself cry out when another spider fearling grabs her leg.

She blasts out an energy from her core that sends it scattering.

 

So she can do magic as a spirit, it seems. Or whatever this form was. Perhaps she was not doing magic at all.

 

Nevertheless, the younger version of her struggles the rest of the way up.

A hand reaching out towards her, the silent plea for aid.

 

There is no anchor in the elven girl's palm.

 

Something inside her dies a little.

 

_So it was like that, then._

 

Almost against her will, the anchor in her arm surges forward and she swings to grab her own hand.

 

And time grinds to a halt.

 

It rushes into her, this younger, naive self, and she loses the sense of her body - or she gains the sense of another, a solid form, a mortal woman bleeding and a spirit cascading and folding into her, a thousand pained, angry memories, suffering, battering her and bruised from truth.

How many times had this happened?

Whenever Solas tore down the Veil it… it restarted. All of it.

 

Again and again.

 

she wasn’t dying.

 

she was coming back to life.

 

Her soul screamed, and it ended the Fade with her agony - the Breach in the sky screamed back.

The anchor attached itself to its new - old - host. The girl fainted.

Lavellan stood there, holding her past self in her arms, and cried.

 

_No_

_No, it couldn’t be._

 

But it was.

 

Stretching out for eternities, so many lives wasted, spent loving and losing him.

 

banal nadas?

 

_why her?_

 

No.

 

A surge of sureness made the agony around her lessen and the world solidify somewhat. This time it would be different.

 

As she began to fade, her purpose fulfilled, she pressed energy into the young mind she was leaving behind.

 

All of these memories, all of the lessons and pains she'd experienced.

 

This time she would change things.

 

This time she would save them - save  _him._

 

And then she ends.

-

  
when she opens her eyes, alone in a dark cell, she cries.

 

-

It progresses in much the same way it did last time - all times. She "meets" Cassandra and Leliana. Accepts the challenge of restoring the world and destroying the rift, regardless of it's dangers to her.

 

It is not so much a plan of tact on her part as it is an unsureness about what to change. She has no answers to give them - none that she can conceive of without consequences. She will bide her time, she thinks, and alter the course of history where it is crucial.

 

She is not expecting to be a mage.

 

This, of all things, is different from her previous life and all those before it. Time had gone back to repeat itself, and she had always been a warrior, yet now, inexplicably, a staff was what she grabbed first rather than a sword and shield, and the flame that descended upon the demon that attacked her was no feat of imagination.

 

How?

 

Had she granted herself magic when she'd imparted the memories? But why?

 

It doesn’t make sense.

 

And it destroys her plan to follow the course of her memories as closely as she can. Not that she thinks she could have in any case. She knows already she'd slipped up several times. It will be a long path ahead of her.

 

At Cassandra's behest she moves to drop the staff, but is stopped.

 

At least she does not have to worry that Cassandra will call for her to become Tranquil. That is the last thing she needs. Would that she could tell them all everything and not expect Solas to get decapitated. Or that she be declared insane. She whirls the staff experimentally, and thinks of remarking to Cassandra that she is unfamiliar with her magic, hoping Cassandra will see her less as a threat for it.

 

But if Cassandra mentions that to others... she wonders how differently Solas will view her now.

 

She decides it is best to keep her unfamiliarity with magic quiet for now, unless asked openly.

 

She does not really have the heart to lie, she finds, though through some miracle she might be able to obfuscate the truth enough to get along. That thought does not readily appeal to her, either. But then, neither does the realization that she will probably be unable to don warrior armor for the rest of her adventure.

 

She shivers in the cold.

 

————————

 

They are making camp for a short rest when she hears Cassandra pull Solas aside and say, “We must speak.”

She has the strange, knowing nausea in her gut that Cassandra means to speak about her, so she settles a far enough distance away, tucks her legs into a meditative position, and closing her eyes, hones her focus on hearing. Solas had taught her the trick to better listen for prey to hunt, and now she uses it to eavesdrop on him. Wonderful.

“Is something the matter, Seeker?” Solas murmurs, and Deus bites down the smile that traitorously curls over her face. She can hear it in his voice, her grumpy hahren, interrupted from setting up his sleeping roll the way he likes it. Oh, its so terribly Solas. It hurts so sharply for a moment that she forgets to breathe, but it is unlike all the other hurts before it, because it doesn’t make her ache. Or it does, but not with agony, but with laughter building in her chest.

“Yes, it is… about the girl.” Cassandra starts, sounding hesitant.

Solas pounces immediately. “I have already told you, while she may be a powerful mage, there is no doubt in my mind that she wouldn't have been able to cause the Breach. She was most likely in the wrong place at the wrong time, Seeker. Now if you would excuse me-“

Once, Deus would have been heartened by his quick defense of her, but now she knows what he knew - that it was all his orb and Corepheus. Of course he would be trying to protect her from the wrath of Chantry folk vying for blood, knowing she was another victim of his mistakes.

“It’s not that!” Cassandra whispered strongly, and then after a pause it comes out in a rush “I… She said she knows me, and she speaks my name as if… well I am well accustomed to dealing with liars. I am a Seeker of truth. But… but I cannot tell with anything that comes out of her mouth. She says one thing that makes no sense as if it is the most basic truth in the world, and another that sounds obvious but as if she is choking on it. I cannot make heads nor tails of her tells. She knows me. Of this I am certain. But I do not know her. When I said I didn’t remember, she was nearly moved to tears, she said she knew that. I… I was sure it was an isolated incident until we met up with you and Varric. Surely you noticed how… affectionate she was of him? _Varric_. She said she hadn’t even read his books. And he does not know her, I already asked him -“

“Seeker, perhaps you are looking too closely into this? She is dealing with severe emotional trauma, not to mention the physical and spiritual. No doubt she lost someone during the conclave, and is now attempting to deal with the grief.”

 _I did,_ She thinks _, I lost so many people. I lost my entire family._

She bites down on her bottom lip but doesn’t start crying. She really _was_ reacting poorly. One would think having been through this all before would make it easier. Now she was being crushed under the weight of knowing it all. It was too much.

_Perhaps I’ve ruined it. Maybe that was why I never gave myself all my memories. No, that doesn’t make sense, I’d need to know in order to not…ugh. But I can’t do this again. Not the way I did before. Even if I wanted to. I’m not the same. And I know the consequences of my actions now._

“Yes, but the way she looks at you Solas. I…” Cassandra sounded fervent, but now… almost…

“Do you suppose I have offended her?” Solas murmured, and now he did sound concerned. Did that mean he already had some fondness for her? Or was it that Fen’Harel couldn’t help but make sure he got close to the one with the anchor?

“No! That is just it! I have been… well you know I am not the most friendly of people, and I have not been kind to her, as I thought she had caused the Breach… but instead, she defends me as if we are… she fights with her back to me with confidence with implicit trust, to her jailor! Places a barrier upon me the moment I am fatigued, knows on which side to stand behind me and where to move when I charge. And she is vicious in protecting me. I cannot fathom how...” Cassandra gave a frustrated noise of disgust, “And when you can’t see… she looks at you like a bird without wings remembers what it was to fly. I cannot understand it. There is no basis for what she-“

Squeezing her eyes, Deus pulled out of the focus trance with a huff. She’d heard enough. She didn’t even want to know what Solas’ reply was, but soft, indistinct murmurs floated over the camp from where the two were speaking. Hopefully he was soothing their addled Seeker. Of course she’d pick up on the fact that Deus knew every fighting tell she had. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. And she’d probably catch on that she knew both Solas’ and Varric’s as well. Bother. Did that mean she needed to fight more sloppily from now on? Bother bother bother. Like she wasn't already struggling with the different fighting style of a mage.

Far too much bother.

She'd been reprimanded  _twice_ now for running towards the enemy instead of away.

She had too many lifetimes of a sword and shield in her hands to forget the basic instinct, but she was going to have to learn.

And yet Deus chuckled despite herself, “Like a bird remembers what it is to fly, hm? And she says she has no talent for poetry. Bah!” She shook her head, dusting herself of as she got up.

“You okay, there, kitten?” A warm voice asked from behind.

“Kitten!” She said with a huff as she rounded on Varric, “That nickname better be preliminary and not final, otherwise I might have to quit this venture from sheer overabundance of cringing.”

The dwarf held up placating hands with a grin, “Okay, okay, ouch, I get it. These things take time, okay? Sorry, wanted to run it by you. Obviously not a match. Ouch.”

She swatted at him playfully as he sat beside her and, after a moment as he stared up at her expectantly, she followed, shaking her head, “I just stood up.” She snorted.

“I noticed. Been dropping some eves on our more serious companions?” Varric asked lightly as he set Bianca down next to him casually.

She sighed, “As if you can blame me.”

“I can’t. I knew there was something smart about you. You’re not all tears and sappy smiles. Although I’d play those down a bit.”

“I’m not -“ She started, shocked, “I’m not acting, Varric.” She slumped. And here she thought she’d finally had someone to… but no. Of course not.

Varric eyed her critically, “Okay, okay, forgive me if I reserve judgement on that one. It’s just, one moment you’re too friendly, and the next, too upset. If you wanted acting tips.”

Deus took a deep breath. This wouldn’t do. “I honestly do not remember what happened. And you … you all remind me of people I lost.” She whispers so that her voice doesn’t crack. It does, but the effect is far less pronounced. That’s good, right? Small things. She clears her throat, eyes closed, “But I’ll endeavor to be less… _open_ in future.” Her voice definitely cracks on the last word. She raises a shaking hand to her face to cover her eyes in disgust.

“Okay, shit, maybe I really did misread you, listen. You’re just… hell, I don’t know many people who are as… fuck, I don’t know, vulnerable? Around people they’ve just met?”

She bit the insides of her cheeks, furiously ignoring the hot tears that began to pool at the edges of her eyes. _I haven’t just met you, I HAVEN’T!_ She just shakes her head.

“I lost my entire family in one fell swoop.” She whispers huskily, “And it so happens that each of you remind me of people I am missing very… very…” She swallowed, then forced herself to finish, “- dearly. I am…Fuck, Varric, I don’t know. I didn’t have a lot of time to come to terms with everything that changed before I was being herded towards a hole in the sky. My bad. I’ll do better next time.”

She startled. There might actually be a next time.

That's when the tears started to fall.

The dwarf beside her took notice, and mumbled ‘shit’ under his breath. She couldn’t help the little hiccup of laughter that bubbled up at that.

“Okay, okay you got me. If you’re secretly an evil spy who opens holes in the sky, you’ve got one down, the whole of Thedas to convince next. Shit.” Varric muttered defeatedly as he shifted closer.

Deus had her head in her arms which were braced around her knees, “Fuck my life.” She mumbled through her tears, which earned her a short barking laugh from the dwarf, who, after a moment of hesitation, laid a gentle palm against her shoulder. She leaned against it slightly, relishing the comfort. And then sank into the embrace of the awkward hug that came a moment later.

“Who do I remind you of?” a hot breath above her head that tickled her ear. He was standing to hold her curled up form, and she huffed.

“My uncle.” She said without hesitation, “A wise crack who knew exactly what to say to either piss everyone off or calm everyone down. Absolute shit at Wicked Grace.” The dwarf made an affronted noise, but she followed up after a pause, “ _Because_ he was always letting sad people win. Other than that, he was very good at it. I hadn’t…” Her voice goes worn with the weight of remembering, “I hadn’t seen him in a while. We were… we were planning to meet up afterwards and have lunch and catch… catch up. He’d been writing letters and telling me stories about his friends to make me laugh because I’d been having a shit couple of years, and I was going to meet… I was going to...” The tears were back threefold.

Varric, away in Kirkwall, scribbling his story, writing her letters asking what he should call it.

_“'Herald of Andraste' is too boring. Everyone knows that title already. I need something with pizazz. I might actually write Sparkler asking for his opinion, since he always had his head in a book and if anyone’s got pizazz it’s him, but… well, before you know it I would probably be writing 'The Tale of Dorian The Magnificent. And company.’ And probably paying him royalties for him coming up with the name, too.“_

She’d laughed at that. She’d left that letter lying on her bedside table after showing it to Bull. Promises that she’d love his Daisy, that Solas wasn’t the only broody elf he’d met, that if she thought Bull could be inappropriate, get a load of Isabella.

“I don’t -“ And suddenly her voice had gotten terribly small, “I’d rather not talk about this anymore please.” She was sobbing now, and thank the heavens for this wonderful dwarf who just held her tighter and murmured ‘Alright' before he started telling her stories about growing up with Bartrand and how one time when they were little Bartrand got stung by a bee and acted like the entire world was ending - this? Hole in the sky? Wouldn’t phase him at all. Bee sting on the thumb? Now the Void had opened and the Maker was going to rain down fire and brimstone on us all. - and in the end she was laughing slightly, and he pretended to not look when she wiped her eyes.

At some point she was absolutely sure Cassandra and Solas walked closer and saw them. But Varric kept talking and after a moment they walked away.

She didn’t care.

At least, that was what she told herself.

 

———

 

________

 

She stood with her arms behind her back, surveying the war table.  
  
She'd spent nights restlessly turning the options over in her mind, and was now no closer to a decision between both.  
  
Which made everything simultaneously harder and simpler, in a way.  
  
"Herald." Josephine's honey accent rung over the space as the other three looked on apprehensively.  
  
She bent forward and brushed her hands over the surface of the table, "I believe it is our duty to recruit both the Templars and mages to our side."  
  
There were a couple notes of disapproval, but much less squawking than she's anticipated. They were waiting for an explanation then. Good.  
  
"My sources say both are suffering from some malicious influence, possibly relating to the same person who caused this mess in the first place. It would be irresponsible of us to ignore one in favor of the other."  
  
Now the arguments began to build up - resources, soldiers, time, capability, knowledge - all things they were lacking in.  
  
Her hands went up to stem the tide of words, "I know - I know. We will focus on one and then - " she paused, and let the word slip out - "/Maker/ willing, we will get to the other in time to help them too."  
  
"The Templars will never join if we have allied with the Mages." Cullen cut in, with Cassandra's agreement, although their harsh voices had softened somewhat.  
  
"I am aware. Which is why we will focus our efforts on them first, even if the Mage situation seems more dire."  
  
"Were you referring to the Time-bending rifts? Or the Tevinter magister at our doorstep?" But her eyes were curious, and Josephine was sporting a soft smile.  
  
"Yes." She said flatly, "That. Both those things."  
  
"Who are your sources?" Leliana said quietly, although her gaze was no longer as calculating.  
  
Drat. "I can't tell you." She said apologetically. "They need to remain anonymous. If I tell you who they are, then they will useless to me in the future."  
  
There. The first blatant lie.  
  
Leliana hummed thoughtfully, and retreated, but Deus knew this wasn't over.  
  
"Herald." Cassandra murmured, "Tell me you have a plan."  
  
She grinned, despite herself. For once, _yes_ , she had a plan.  
  
"Josephine, I need you to contact as many nobles as you can to convince Lord Seeker Lucius I'm worth having an audience with. This is the priority. The top ten noble houses showing up at his door will get his attention, I've been told."  
  
Josephine makes a considering and interested sound as she scribbles something down on her board, "Your sources are ambitious but not incorrect, Herald." She murmurs thoughtfully a slight curl to her lips as she considers the challenge before her.  
  
_You are my sources_ , she thinks to herself. She turns towards Leliana, "You should help her with securing this alliances when you can but your priority is Redcliffe, specifically the Arl's keep." She puts her finger over the town as she says this. "My sources are certain that a direct confrontation would be unwise, but that there are secret tunnels and passages that -"  
  
"-Inquisition soldiers could use while you go in as an open distraction." Liliena finishes, a gleam of delight in her eyes at the prospect.  
  
She chuckles, "Something like that. Now off you go, we have about a week to get this together." The spymaster and ambassador say a soft goodbye each and then are gone.  
  
Cassandra takes a moment, and then walks up to Deus and places her hand on Deus' shoulder.  
  
"I hope you know what you're doing." She says in a low voice.  
  
Deus sags for a moment, letting just the edge of her weariness show through, "Me too." She agrees.  
  
Cassandra looks her over, nods, and then leaves as well.  
  
Deus turns back to the commander, who had stayed somewhat silent throughout it all.  
  
"You know the mages will not join willingly if there the Templars are allied with the inquisition."  
  
She hesitated, then sighed and walked forward so that they stood face to face across the war table.  
  
"I can't make any promises, Cullen, but I don't know that the Templars will be joining as our equals."  
  
Cullen looks up in surprise and then his face hardens.  
  
"Because that's politically smarter, I suppose. To distance the Inquisition from the Templars but still use their power. Or is it because you are a Mage - an apostate, and fear their reaction?" He looked upset - hurt, as if he was daring her to say otherwise.  
  
Gladly, if she could find her voice. Her eyebrows had lifted so far she was sure they'd flown off her head. She couldn't speak for a moment, but the surprise in Cullen's face when he realized she was completely flabbergasted returned some of the air to her lungs.  
  
"No." She prefaced with, then collected her scattered thoughts.  
  
She felt a twinge of guilt for telling him, but he deserved to know, even if it would hurt him, "Cullen, I believe Templars are in a far worse state than the mages. True, I am not fond of them, or the choices they make, but the difference is that the Tevinter magister has only just started plying influence over the mages. I fear that the Templars are in a much more dire situation, otherwise I would not bother going to them at all."  
  
Cullen's expression turned confused, "I do not understand, why would that make sense-"  
  
"Because they are being corrupted from _within_. Soldiers are being betrayed by those in command. They do not deserve to suffer for following orders, even if blindly. They are being taken advantage of and we are the only ones who can help them if anyone can."  
  
Cullen looked away, face set in seriousness, expression stormy as he digested the information.  
  
She waited for him to declare her lying or foolish or wrong.  
  
Instead, "take me with you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I cannot in good conscience let you help the Templars without offering my own aid. You are an apostate seeking to help the very people that would otherwise be enemies to you. Do not do what is my job."  
  
" _Your_ job?" She said in shock, then shakes her head, "Is not to clean up the mess he Templars make, nor to take responsibility for it. If the soldiers had an ounce of independence they could have left just as you had. They chose to stay, to commit questionable acts of morality, and to continue fighting. It is my job because I have to try and convince Lucius to stop - or cut off the head of the snake if he's in someone else's pocket."  
  
" _Take me with you._ " Cullen growled, "it _is_  my duty to make sure that those soldiers are not being abused by their upper in command. If Lucius is abusing his power then I _have_ -" he cut himself off, running a hand over his face and turning away to pace.  
  
He stopped. " _Please_." He said.  
  
Oh, Cullen.  
  
" _ **Damn you**_ I can't." She snapped before walking around the war table to stand in front of him.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I can't take my advisors out into the field. I cannot risk losing you."  
  
"Oh, but using the herald of andraste as bait to lure out a Tevinter magister is fine?!" He yelled, an arm flying out to gesture angrily at nothing.  
  
She scowled internally. Knew he should have spoken up about that.  
  
"Cullen, I'll already be bringing Cassandra -"  
  
He began pacing again, walking around the table, "Who was never a Templar! She is a seeker. She's never known what it's like to be just a soldier, to follow orders and not question them. She won't understand." He stopped on the other side, head bowed.  
  
" _I_ understand -" she started, but he began to disagree and before she could help it, she burst out "It's the lyrium!"  
  
A pause, "...What?"  
  
She winced at her reveal. She didn't want to do this to him. She knew he felt guilt about it, conflicted.  
  
"I don't want you to be surrounded by all the lyrium." She said in defeat.  
  
His expression of fury melted away into shock.  
  
"Who told you?" He said in horror.  
  
She winced, then gestured to towards him, "..You did. It's obvious when you're looking for the signs."  
  
_You did, you really truly did, I didn't figure it out._  
  
He looked down, shoulders hunching.  
  
"I swore it would not affect my duty-" he began, pained.  
  
" _No!_ " she snapped, and he looked back at her.  
  
She walked around the table to face him again, hands coming up to hold his arms, "I would never ask you to take it up again, Cullen. I'm not punishing you. It's not about whether you can control yourself or not-"  
  
"Isn't it?" Snapped without bite, "I should be outing forth my best, and instead -  
  
She gave him an involuntary little shake, " _No_." She snarled, "you are better without its influence - without its _control_. How do you think there being corrupted, Cullen? How many do you think would have left if they weren't addicted?"  
  
"All the more reason for me to-" he began.  
  
"Do you remember the red lyrium at the temple of sacred ashes?" She asked.  
  
He froze, "that varric brought up from the deep roads? That turned the knight commander into a statue?"  
  
She'd forgotten about the connection they had.  
  
"My sources think that's what is being used to corrupt them. That it's red lyrium. That they might be _ingesting_ it."  
  
Cullen's expression of horror grew.  
  
"I'm _not_ punishing you, I swear. I would be stopping you just as much if you were still taking it. I'm keeping you away because I'm selfish. I don't want to- I can't - if anything happened to you because I let-"  
  
She feels her breath rattle out as her heart beat speeds up.  
  
It was foolish to suggest both the mages _and_ the Templars. How could they possibly pull this off? How terribly greedy and foolish. If they spread themselves too thin at her behest and everything fell apart? Then what? She had no garentees any of this would work. What if see just doomed them all? What if she loses them all again? She didn't know what would happen at therinfall. She could be walking them into a death trap. What if-  
  
She startles back to when she feels a pressure at her cheek.  
  
Cullen's hand is on her cheek. That should /not/ be there. Vhenan might get annoyed.  
  
"Breath. Deep breathes. You're okay. I'm okay. I won't go - I understand."  
  
Cullen, what?  
  
"I-"  
  
She's sitting in a chair. Cullen is kneeling in front of her with one of his hands on her cheek.  
  
She blinks towards it and suddenly it retracts.  
  
He clears his throat. "We've put too much pressure on you. You're not accustomed to power or to choices of this magnitude."  
  
Not before being herald, no. She thinks. Of course, I've been herald for a couple of years by now so-  
  
"And I heard you lost many of your friends at the conclave."  
  
She looked away.  
  
"You've been asked to suddenly take on the responsibility for so many people and it should have occurred to us that so soon after losing those dear to you it might be too much."  
  
"My plan is sound." She said flatly before she realized it.  
  
He chuckled, "Yes, it probably is. I... Might have been over eager to get away from my post. I am not used to sending others out in my stead to do what I feel is my job. I may have elected to forget that politics are not your prerogative. That you've been suffering heavier burdens than any of us."  
  
She looked at him sadly. The bags under his eyes, the stubble, the pallor of his skin.  
  
He says softly, "my apologies, herald, for pushing you so hard to defend sound logic. I will stay." He gets up and starts towards the door.  
  
He pauses, and half turns back as if to say something, then closes his mouth and leaves.  
  
The door closes with a click.  
  
She stays in that lonely little room longer than she'd like to admit.

  
  
-

  
It's mostly by accident that she finds Leliana's rookery. She'd needed to send some crows so as to make it look like she actually had contacts. Of course, she was a Mage, so maybe they had secret ways to send messages? She wasn't sure. Better safe than sorry.  
  
Instead she stumbles into a little rookery filled with black crows.  
  
They're a screeching, heaving mass of oily black feathers, beady eyes, and sharp beaks. They turn toward her, squawking and snapping.  
  
She falls in love instantly.  
  
When Leliana shows up, it is to see Deus's head peeking out of a swarm of blackness moving all about her as she giggles, trying to pass out the nug jerky she'd been carrying on her in case she met the barn cat.

She'll have to carry extra now, she realizes. She remembers faintly seeing them all across Thedas as they'd been traveling, them spooking when she'd come near to probably tell Leliana of their progress, but she'd never gotten  _this_ close. Oh, she loves them all. There had been some in the room above Solas' little alcove, but never at  _Haven._

 

And then Leliana is standing in the doorway, blinking at her in surprise.

 

  
"Herald, I -"

" _Leliana, oh, they're_ so _wonderful."_ She gives an involuntary giggle as one hops up her back to caw at her from her shoulder until she hands it a little piece of jerky.

 

Leliana recovered swiftly, chuckling, "I see you've found their weakness."

 

"I wish I could hug them all. Look at their little claws! And their little heads -!" She was gushing, but as Leliana strode forward, they rose in a swarm, cawing as the Spymaster came closer.

 

"Those are just the ones in training." Leliana said, pulling out a cloth from somewhere and offering it to Deus to wipe up the small bird scats on her clothes, "Would you like to meet the rest?"

 

Deus doesn't even have to answer her, the look on her face says it all.

 

It is some time later, much later, halfway through introductions, right as Deus laughing and allowing one to hop back onto it's little hanging perch that Leliana turns to her and says softly, "You're crying." She says it almost apologetically. As if the Herald is weepy by nature and no one should be alarmed if they see that.  
  
Deus' laughter cuts off a little mournfully. "Oh." She whispers, and hand delicately rising to her cheek.

  
  
She flees.

  
In her little room, sobbing about birds and Leliana and they'd lost their Divine at the Conclave, but she had _too_.  
  
Soft spoken sharp-eyed divine Victoria and it breaks her heart all over again.

  
  
There is a knock at her door.

  
  
"Not now." Comes her strangled reply.

  
  
A pause. Then the door opens. She leans up and turns around to see a shocked dwarf in her doorway.  
  
She looks away, tired but relieved, "Varric, please..."  
  
The door closes and she has approximately five seconds to hope he actually did what she wanted before she hears his footsteps on the floorboards.  
  
She lays back down with a thump. He walks up to face her.  
  
"Who was it this time?" His gruff voice asks.  
  
She answers a different question, "Leliana."  
  
He sighs, sets something down on her table, and sits on her bed. She gets up to lean on him and sob softly.  
  
Because she is _weak_.  
  
"Who was it this time?" He asks again.  
  
"I don't - I don't want -" she tries to get it out.  
  
"One of these days you're gonna need to tell someone. You can't keep it in like that."  
  
"I know." She sobs, and that's the worst part. The idea of trying to explain. To Solas. To _Varric_.  
  
"Lavellan...." He trails off warningly.  
  
"Not today." She cries into his hair, _not_ _today_.  
  
He sighs heavily, "Alright." She flops back down and he leans over to snuff out one of her candles.  
  
"You get some sleep. I don't care what Herald-y duties you got today, be it blessing babies or doing miracles, you need to rest. Stress is getting to you." He says over her protests.  
  
He gets off her bed and gestures towards a small box he'd placed on the bedside table next to the candle.  
  
"Open that when you're feeling better." He says, gesturing towards it off handedly.  
  
And if she doesn't feel better?  
  
He glares at her as if he can read her thoughts.  
  
She fidgets with a thread in her blanket, "Just to clarify." She mumbles, "It's not the type of gift that spoils, is it?"  
  
He snorted, then gave in, "Only friendships, baby. Only friendships."  
  
"Thank you Varric."  
  
"Yeah yeah, don't mention it."  
  
(Gift is a clan thing Merrill gave him either a halla or a wolf)  
  
-  
Black wall flirt  
Solas train

-

 

-

 

-

She had been worrying over how best to approach them, felt the dread of misspoken lies weighing heavily in her gut.

When she finally settled on one, it sounded like bullshit even in her head, but she had no alternatives and she was going to close the breach in two weeks time.

"I believe that after Dorian and I were sent to the future, I came back still affected by time magic."

She'd made sure Solas was nearby when she put it before her advisors. He would no doubt have wondered why she did not tell him otherwise. Or maybe that was her. Any matters of magic, she used as an excuse to speak to him, or at least she had. Once.

Now she had decided not to break both their hearts all over again. It was excruciating. She wanted to be with him. She wanted to love him. But she would settle (try to) for being a close friend. A ridiculously close friend.

As it was, he hardly knew her now, in any case. Which was painful enough on its own.

Cullen and Cassandra startled the most. Josephine and Lilienna, were both taken aback but waited to listen.

"What do you mean? Has it-" Cassandra started.

Dorian and Solas ambled closer as she help up a placating hand.

"You misunderstand. I've been..." She wilted at the prospect of saying it out loud. No, they needed to be ready when Corepheus attacked. She would not let people die on her watch.

She sighed, wincing at the words about to leave her mouth "I've been having premonitions of the future."

The assembly all exclaimed in various levels of alarm. Dorian squinted at the words, no doubt ready to offer his thoughts on the plausibility of that, but thankfully, Solas opened his mouth first, "Are you sure, da'len? Is it not perhaps that a spirit or demon has attached itself to your memories?"

"I cannot begin to understand nor explain the magics that are affecting me," she stated with honesty, thinking of the whiteness, the veil, the choice she'd made, the horror that perhaps she'd made it before, "but I can assure you this is the work of no other upon me." She hesitated, debating whether it was a worthy gamble or not, "I believe it has to do with the mark."

The exclamations on her advisors lips died - no one could claim to understand the working of the mark. Except Solas, and even if he did - which he wouldn’t for fear of exposing himself - he didn't fully understand it, either.

The mage in question pursued his lips, but said nothing. She could tell he was searching her for signs of lying, but she was being completely honest. Actually, to be completely honest, she's have to say she /knew/ that it was she mark. That would out /her/, though.

Dorian frowned, but did not dispute it. It was a perfect cover up. It would explain why she suffered it and not he. Instead he chuckled jovially, "so am I to understand that the herald of andraste can see the future? My, that /does/ sound like a fantastic resume to work with."

She bit down a smile, shaking her head slightly as Josie made a noise of sudden shock, as if she had unexpectedly been handed a bar of gold.

"I ... Wouldn't say that exactly. It's... Well it is what it is. I actually need to speak to Cullen about something I saw," she murmurs, "but i thought everyone should be aware."

Solas looked vey much as if he would like to discuss this new development with her /now/, but she ignored his expression (and the slight stab in her heart to do so) in favor of turning towards her commander. Cullen, after rubbing his neck nervously, gestured towards the chantry and she and her advisors made their way to the war room.

 

\------  
"Oh, and there will be a spirit." She said suddenly, as she was walking out.

She turned back towards the room she had been exiting. She did not see Solas kick off from the wall where he'd been waiting to speak to her, nor did she notice him amble closer while her back was turned. She held open the door fully.

A chorus of confused exclamations answered her. She clarified.

"We will meet a spirit hoping to warn us of Corepheus' approach. He is a friend.” A beat. "You will not question this."

Before she had finished speaking, Cassandra and Cullen had rushed forwards, "now, herald -"

She growled, "I know what I - listen, it's not only a matter of /seeing/, alright? Nothing is simply one way with the fade. I felt and know what he is. A friend. I will trust him with my life. Perhaps one day, you will too. "

“/Or/ perhaps Solas was right. Does it not seem suspicious to you that you experienced a vision of a demon that supposedly attempts to aid us by showing up right as Corepheus attacks and who you suddenly trust implicitly?"

Se blinked at that.

Then burst out laughing. "Cole is no demon! He is not deceit, but /compassion/. Spirits may not be /like/ people, but they /are/ people -" she cut herself off. She knew them too well and they knew her not at all. This argument was pointless currently. she waved them off, but they were looking thunderous, her humans. She sighed. This wouldn’t do.

She tried again. feet braced against the door, "Listen, we mortals are very complex creatures, it's true. We're ruled by multiple passions at any given time. We experience the entire range of emotions over the course of our lifetimes."

She bit down a chuckle. No good here.

"/But- " she took a deep breath, "spirits and demons are one track minded. Mortals are a mess of greys that are all over the place, but spirits and demons are black and white. Unless it's a Deciet demon, a spirit has no reason to lie. They don't understand the concept of denying what they are. It's pointless, strange, /unnatural/. Mortals? We repress things. Things that we dislike about ourselves, that we feel will make our situations worse, that... hurt us." She swallowed.

"The only reason a spirit would ever feel the need to lie is /because/ of our influence. We force them to deny their true nature and in so doing, corrupt them. But if a desire demon comes to you wearing the face of someone you know, it's not to mess with you, but because you desire that specific company. We inherently alter the world they perceive. They react in kind. And then usually we panic and deny it."

She kneaded the skin on the bridge of her nose as she felt a migraine coming on. Cullen and Cassandra were allowing her to speak but they didn't look convinced.

"The only reason I'm telling you this is because it's dangerous to deny a spirit what and who they are. Even without this conversation you would have accepted his new role with... With the inquisition. But you would not have received him well at first. And I would have liked to circumvent that. It seems I've only made it worse. Typical, I suppose." They both opened ther mouths but she silenced them with a glare, "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear? This is not a discussion. He will become one of the most important people I have the pleasure of knowing. You will treat him, at least, with respect, and if it is not beyond you, an open mind. Good day.”

She closed the door and refrained from slamming it, at least.

She turned on her heel to flee and nearly walked straight into Solas. The elf had a particularly drawn look on his face, as if he'd been mulling over the things she'd said. It melted away in surprise, however, as the door closed behind her and her forehead smacked into his shoulder.

"Apologies." He murmured, stepping away quickly and reaching out to brace her as she recovered.

She hummed, rubbing her forehead. She just wanted a nap. And, if she were completely honest, a Cole to snuggle with.

She'd expected the expression of hawk-like intensity to greet her as he grilled her on her "visions" but instead, for what she thinks is the first time ever, Solas regards her with the a slightly pensive, almost dumbstruck expression.

And he still hasn't said anything.

"Solas...?" She ventured, and he seems to snap out of it.

"You are quite unlike anyone I've ever met before." He says softly, "I am... Trying to reconcile that with what I know of you already. Any moment I think I have you pegged, you reveal something shocking and contrary to what I'd initially believed." Solas sighed, ducking his head and shifting his weight from foot to foot, "you are... Nothing like I have expected."

A shocked and warm feeling pierces her chest at those words. This is far too early. Already she had changed the timeline and yet... She blushes, "there can't be a specific thing to expect in this situation." She mutters, knowing it is not an especially inspiring reply, but feeling her ears go red when he chuckles in response.

/ are you some blushing Halla? You know everything about him and he nothing about you! Ugh. Get a hold of yourself!/

He turned more serious as they walked out of the chantry. "I confess I thought you were unique for being open minded enough to listen to anything I had to say. I did not expect you to take it to heart, nor for you champion the spirits as a people. I am... moved. This is extremely heartening. At first I doubted the authenticity of these premonitions, but now I am not so sure... You have a greater understanding of spirits and demons than I assumed. You would not be out under the sway of one so easily. I...honestly do not know what to say right now. "

She coughed awkwardly as they made their way through the snow, "That must be a new experience for you ha'ren. But to be fair, I can hardly take that kind of credit. I already knew that spirits are as like people as you are I, even if their experience of life is different."

She tucked a hair being her ear, swallowing back the worry that curled in her gut. Would he be upset that she'd listened but not agreed? Pretended to be an ignorant listener when she was the opposite? She stared down at the snow crunching under their feet, not dating to look him in the face.

After a few moments of stark silence, however, she couldn't bear it any longer.

"ha'ren?" She asked anxiously, swallowing heavily.

She looked up to see a flash of wonder on Solas' face, and something that felt painfully close to bittersweetness, or home sickness.

"You are remarkable." He said softly, almost reverently.

She flushed angrily, and opened her mouth to disagree when-

"How did you come to learn this?" He asked.

She felt dread crawl up her spine. "I had a good teacher" she said gently, unable to keep the soft fondness from her voice, nor from adding, "You remind me of him, actually."

Solas chuckled, "I should like to meet this Dalish ha'ren of yours that I should be similar to." He said dryly.

"You couldn't." She replied, "he's dead."

She'd meant it as an escape from trying to bullshit her way out of that one, and inexplicably, realized it was true. She'd never she her vhenan again.

/Your Solas is dead/

Suddenly a painful ache pressed on her heart, and she swallowed back the tears that tugged at the edges of her eyes. She felt the building frown and tried to pull it from her face. She could cry later. Alone in her room. She looked down, swaying slightly.

Solas, in shock, reached out to steady her, but the moment was over.

"Sorry," she mumbled, voice thick with tears and a cold, "I-" her voice was wracked with emotion she was not ready to show him. To show anyone. She took a shuddering breath then she straightened and scolded herself, still unable to look up into the face that should belong to the one who loved her and instead belonged to a stranger.

"I would prefer not to talk about it." She whispered.

"Of corse, apologies." Her ever conscious and sensitive Solas murmured.

"I... I should appreciate a moment alone." She said softly, "I... We shall continue this conversation another time. Apologies." She fled.

He did not say or do anything to stop her, his face one of heart-breaking pity, but only because she knew what he did not.

\------  
"You know me. Not me, but more. I don't remember you though. I'm sorry."

 

"It's okay," she whispered, voice husky with tears and relief and bittersweet joy.

"How can you miss someone standing right in front of you?" Cole echoed her thoughts

"I don't know," she said choking on tears, "but you're the closest to what I had and now that you're in front of me I don't know if I'm more happy or sad."

 

“Both," Cole murmured, "You're sad, but you're happy about it."

"I've missed you" she said simply, then sniffles and laughs, feeling her heart begin to break more under the weight of her growing joy

"The happier you are, the greater you realize the distance that lies between what I am and what I was and what I could be." Cole shuffles awkwardly, "You want a hug?"

 

"I want a hug," she stutters in a rush of pained and happy agreement, sobbing as he delicately wraps his arms around her. The scent of crystal grace and warm water and hay and the fade and his hat tickling the skin of her forehead and she feels she might burst.

"He's the same he's the same he's the same," Cole whispers fiercely in her ear, "My sweet Cole, if I could love anyone the way I did it would be him, oh Cole."

She wraps her arms around him, tucks her head into the space of his neck, under his chin. "I'm not okay." She whispers, "but I can endure. I think."

"I don't know how to make this hurt better," Cole confesses, "It grows every moment, hungry to match your happiness, it wants to devour you whole. It wasn't as bad when you thought you'd lost everything, but now that there's something true that you can salvage, it's getting irritated, red, bleeding fresh and savage. You never had the chance to say goodbye, but hurts so much to say hello knowing that it's really a goodbye in disguise. I love you I love you I love you my little Cole, my little spirit boy."

For a moment he suddenly squeezes her tighter. "I'm not little" he says softly, and she chokes on a laugh burdened with tears and snot.

"Perfect as you are," he fiercely murmurs, "no need to be more human or more spirit because you're perfect, perfect, my wonderful Cole, my beautiful Cole."

"It's true," she whispers, hiccuping through tears, "oh Cole, oh Cole, it's /true/."

She pulls him closer and doesn't know how long they stand like that, in the night and snow, until her arms ache and her legs begin to cramp and releases him. She needs to summon the war council, check perpetrations and look everything over. She has never hated the idea of a giant desk and two maps so much.

"Goodbye, Cole." She forces herself to say, stepping away and disentangling herself from his wiry frame.

"It's hello, Cole, too, and even though I can't be the same, you're not worried. Not goodbye forever. Not this time. This time you'll save me. Save them. Save us."

She mumbled and then after a moment's indecision, tugs him down to press a kiss to his forehead, sweeping away his hair and brushing up his hat.

"Yes." She agrees faintly. /for you./

\-----

She dared not go out with Varric and company and end up drunk. What secrets she might spill... No, the thought alone was terrifying. The consequences of such irresponsible actions would no doubt be devastating.

She remembers once she got so spectacularly drunk that Varric insisted on walking her to her quarters himself. Of course, how the dwarf was planning to get a boneless elf up several flights of stairs was a question she'd never get the answer to now. Luckily, she was loud enough in her stupor to get Solas' attention as they passed through the rotunda.

"Shit, Deus, I said be /quiet/." Varric grumbled as the elf approached, looking at them apprehensively.

She giggled, pleased, "oh did you?" She flopped slightly and Solas rushed forward to balance her so that she wasn't draped over the annoyed dwarf, "oh I'm terribly sorry Master Tethras." She snorted to herself in delight and Solas' eyebrows rose.

"I do not believe I've ever seen the inquisitor... So inebriated." He allowed her to lean heavily on his shoulder as Varric let her rest an arm on his back.

"Tell me about it. She'll never trust Bull again."

Solas hummed non commitedly "perhaps for the best."

Varric snorted and they began the perilous journey upwards.

She doesn't remember much except for the fact that she felt especially inclined to inform Solas - multiple times, to Varric's delight - that he was the prettiest person in all of Skyhold.

"I'm declaring it officially. Write this down Varric it's important. Put it in a book."

"Do /not/ put it in a book." Solas say severely, leaning around her stumbling body to glare at the grinning dwarf.

"Sorry, Chuckles, it was gonna happen with or without her blessing."

Solas glowered, "it is unkind of you to take advantage of her in this state, master Tethras."

"Taking advantage? You mean gaining inspiration, I hope."

"Solas is inspir...inspirational." She giggled, relishing the way the tips of Solas' ears turned pink.

"Inquisitor -" he started, but she giggled again.

"/Da'len/-" he started in a harsher tone but she started laughing harder.

"/if/ you insist." She said pleasantly, leaning closer to his face and causing him to frown.

She blinked up at him.

"It's not /fair/." She said finally, leaning away. "I'm surrounded by attractive people. It's not /fair/ I tell you."

"You callin me pretty, Berry?" Came a huff from the dwarf under one of her arms. She lifted it in surprise to reveal him, as if she hadn't realized anyone was there at all.

"I thought that's why people are always talking about your chest hair?" She said with such innocent confusion that Varric's slight scowl slipped off.

"Ah, my sweet inquisitor, flattery will get you /everywhere/."

"Solas is still prettier." She said, so honestly apologetic that Varric started laughing so much that Solas swiped at him behind her back.

"Oh." She said suddenly, as they reached the second flight of stairs, "oh no don't tell Vivienne I said that. She'll skin me alive. And feed me to whatever furry thing she wears next."

"Now, now, Berry, fur doesn't really seem Viv's style."

"But she's madam de fer." She had said blankly, tipsily frowning down at he dwarf, “of course she likes fur."

She heard a snort from the other side and whirled - "whoa, Nelly, watch it there! - to face Solas.

"She'll get you too." She threatened, "just you wait."

"Hey, what about sparkler? I feel like he'd want me to remind you of his... Threatening capacities? I don't know. Twirling his mustache at you and reciting wine vintages?"

She had thought that was terribly funny, and they'd had to stop for her to bend over and try to breathe.

"Shit, Lotus, you crying?" Varric murmured in alarm when he saw her face.

"/Dorian/?" She managed out before she was overcome with laughter again.

"Wow. You seen him throw fireballs, right? I mean I wouldn't bet against Solas if it came to that, but Sparkler's no circle mage."

She wiped her eyes still coming down from it, then turned towards him in offense, "Solas is too pretty to be compared to a red Templar!" She said angrily.

"Lethalin." Solas tried to chide but she'd gasped.

"You're right. Don't want Vivienne fur lady to hear me." She said, actually seeming nervous.

By the time they had finished the second flight of stairs, she was mostly done talking and half asleep on Solas' shoulder.

"Oh!" She said suddenly, jerking awake.

She slapped him on the chest a few times in excitement as she tried to speak.

"I know how to defeat Corepheus!" She said gleefully.

"No shit." Varric has said, laughing as Solas rubbed his chest, frowning at her.

"Yes, yes -" she leaned forward conspiratively, lowering her voice. The other two followed her lead looking intrigued.

"We..." She wet her lips, "we tell Vivienne that /Corepheus/ said that! It's perfect!"

There was a moment of silence where Varric opened his mouth-

And Solas gave a full body laugh. Words cannot describe what her alcohol addled mind experienced, but for one glorious moment, someone could have told her the Maker absolutely existed and she would have believed them.

She remembered staring at him with her mouth open as he chuckled, eyes still shut, grin blown wide.

If she hated anything about herself in that moment it was that she had not focused her energy on getting that reaction earlier.

The only reason he had not seen her look of wonder was because she'd turned towards Varric with it and gestured angrily towards the elf laughing beside her.

Varric had shrugged in what she had decided was awed agreement.

When she turned back, Solas' face was flushed and he was shaking his head as e attempted to tap down a traitorous remnant of a smile.

Mostly unsuccessfully.

Especially when he glanced towards her and she'd grinned furiously in response. He'd snorted and shook his head some more.

"/this/ egg, am I right?" She'd mumbled to Varric, who choked on a little chuckle of his own.

"It appears we have reached the abode of one inquisitor Lavellan." Came the smooth voice right by her ear.

"Ooh, abode. Fancy. Doesn't that sound fancy, Varric?"

"Sure does, Lotus. Listen, why don't you lie down and tell me all about it in the morning?" The dwarf had hummed, opening her door so Solas could gently usher her inside.

They'd given several goodbyes and good nights and then she was standing all alone in her dark room.

She stayed like that for several minutes as she processed the sound of Solas laughing. It made her ache, hurt so wonderfully and awfully all at once.

He'd never laughed like that before. Because of something sad, she was sure.

She'd sat on her bed for how long she wasn't sure.

 

She only knew that when she woke up the next morning, there was a potion for hangovers, a note explaining as much, and a thick woolen blanket wrapped around her that she'd never seen before and that Varric later told her wasn't his.

\-----  
"She tells herself again and again, it'll be different this time. She'll save them this time. The blood is rushing in her ears and her fingers don't believe her but it'll be different, you'll save them. You'll save them. You have to. But she doesn't believe herself either."

 

\----  
"Stop focusing on what you lost and start focusing on what you had. They're exactly the same but it makes all the difference. Some days she's stronger - she can laugh and ignore the hurts, sometimes it hurts too much to do anything but remind herself what they mean."

 

——  
“What do you do when the person you would die for is the one who is killing you?"


	7. Song of Empathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Au where modern girl becomes a wolf in Thedas.

A dream, a thought of a man alone, and an angry sky, and though outside this dream it was only a game, their faces and voices were more real than life itself, than her own face and name. And how she desperately wanted to save them.

_How she desperately wanted to help._

 

And the it heard her.

 

Felt her tiny voice, her tiny mind reaching out, like a dandelion seed caught on the breeze.

 

It reached out back, and let the seed come to rest on a finger, gentle, curious, gaze soft on the intruder.

 

When it felt her desire, her ache, it spoke;

 

"Of the most powerful emotions in the world, there is love. There is love, and faith. Fear, too. And hatred. And rage and envy and justice and pride and despair and hope. Long down the list, somewhere far from the top lays one unique above all others - Empathy. And yet, the potential contained within it is beyond all others. To become love, fierce, or faith, unshaken, or rage, or envy or justice or pride or despair or hope. Or any combination between."

 

And in her mind, it asked -

 

_Do you want to help him, little empath?_

 

_Who hurts so much for his sake? For theirs? For the very world itself?_

_Dare you, knowing to stray to close - to become Love, blinded by itself, or Faith, ever uncertain, or Fear, or hatred or rage or envy or justice or pride or despair or hope? That empathy's very nature is the most malleable by those around it, that you must never trust those around you least they remake you to mirror themselves - dare you?_

_When those you ache so desperately to help would sooner take advantage of your very being?_

_For Empathy is dangerous to itself. To understand others so completely that every moment you spend with them makes it harder to stop them from destroying even themselves._

_Dare you?_

 

A voice smaller than thought, itself, tiny against the blackness, the greatness of nothing, cried out in answer.

 

_Very well._

 

_Then go forth._

 

\-----

It is very hard to breathe for a moment. Like all of her is being squeezed, compressed by two great and careful hands, as if she is not made of bone and blood but rubber and thought. And she is holding her breath but there is nothing in her lungs because she doesn't have lungs and so they aren't burning from lack of oxygen because she doesn't have a brain but still a part of her is waiting for the moment to stop because it is very uncomfortable and she feels the not-breath building in her not-chest and its making her not-head dizzy.

And then she is being pushed through a needle point - all of her essence under fantastic pressure to go through until all of the extraneous things, useless, unimportant memories are forced off, falling to the wayside so that the rest of her can make it through.

And then there is cold bright air in her lungs and watery light filtering through bare branches, and her body struggles in the dirt as she becomes physical again.

An arm - a leg? Braces, shaking under the effort, to carry her body, but collapses, she - still not sure what form, what idea. She thinks she had hands but instead dark flashing eyes in her mind, teeth and shaggy fur.

Her skull elongates - it is more pressure on her nose and like the beginning of a migraine, but it doesn't actually hurt, and her fingers become digits, and it feels like stretching aching joints, and her arms become forelegs, and that feels like her legs had fallen asleep and the pinpricks of blood rushing into muscle and skin and finally her spine tugs and then unfolds like a telescope, filling her back with a furious itchiness until it is finally done.

All the while she is whimpering and shuddering and gnashing her teeth at the air, snapping her head from side to side as everything about her changes.

The transformation slows, and she lays there, shuddering.

A tendril prompts her.

_You wanted this. Now own it._

She takes a moment, limbs askew, all odd angles as she lays there, panting.

And then she remakes herself to help.

Feels out the chinks and breaks in her bones and resets them, smooths over coarse fur and sharpens her teeth to fine points.

She must be able to rend flesh and bone, to swallow lightning and fire.

To fight.

_I will be no normal wolf, but one to shake the very roots of the earth._

To protect.

It is hours that she works, until hearing the hollows of her bones is calming and the vibrations of her heart are steady.

Only when the light of the sky has faded and the orange and yellow leaves are cast blue does she stop, shuddering and sweating from the exertion.

As her eyelids flutter closed, body splayed against the leaves and dirt, she knows.

_I have to get to them._

 

\---

 

The dreams of the Fade are liquid, scents of stars and ozone, green fractals spiraling around her. It is both exhilarating and nauseating. She sprints through the blur of this other world, because she is free and wild and because if she stops she might throw up.

His spirit has its own scent - ice magic and spirit, royal elfroot and the bone deep smell of the earth and stone of timelessness.

 

She has to get to them.

 

Though the wolf has no map, no memory quite sharp from a screen, she knows they are at Haven and that Solas is at Haven and to get to Solas is to get to Haven and to get to Haven is to get to them and _she has to get to them_.

 

So she runs, tongue out to taste the strange air and static of the Fade, spirits and demons alike both twisting in space to try and catch her in their claws but failing, failing to get traction in her fur because she is **strong** and _fast_. 

 

She made herself to shake the very foundations of the world and race on the alpine winds, to drink the blood of dragons and rend the flesh of darkspawn.

 

To help.

 

So she runs.

She runs until the rock gives way to bones and bones give way to blood and blood gives way to ash and ash gives way to screams and the Fade hurts to be in and she has to stop. She runs until there are too many demons and they are all clawing at her, slowing her, until her breath gives out and she startles awake in an empty clearing overset with a fine film of frost.

 

She rises on sore but healthy muscles, shakes out the ice from her pelt, dislodging the settling icy remnants of dew, and lowers her nose to the earth.

 

She smells the hares hiding deep in the earth, and the dirty feet of the farmer boys who passed by this clearing several days ago, the earth worms squirming and the fading scent of That Which Put Her Here.

 

She smells the village far to the north, the smoke billowing up from a lonely chimney, the dry and stale hay where some rams rest, their fur overwhelmingly pungent and strong enough to make her eyes water. She smells the carrion remains of a fennec carcass, crows swooping down to pick the corpse clean. She smells the river reeds at the edge of a pond, water stagnant and putrid with mold and rot, algae forming over everything.

 

And then she smells frost and spirit, the tang of purple leaves reaching up to crown the sky, and the magic of ages past.

 

She gives a howl, mournful sounding in its triumph, raising her head to the sky as if to cry out farewell to the beginning, and hello to the end.

 

She has the scent.

 

Solas.

\----

  
bothers solas, becomes companion to (trans female) lavellan

 She follows the scent of the anchor, weaving through Haven, for where the Herald is, so too will there be Solas, slipping through the shadows, a whisper in his cloak, his eyes pinpricks of light in the dark. When she reaches the anchor, there is a man. There is a man - or no, it is not a man. She whimpers and sits, confused at the scents that come from the Fade.

  
There is the not-man with the sharp cheek bones and a heavier scent, but there are other men, cruel songs winding through the Fade. The not-man is unhappy. They are sharp towards her. And before the wolf is ready, empathy floods her senses and their is agony and pain. 

 

"And the Herald, he thinks a dress is enough?"

 

"I seen mages wearing dresses that were more convincing."

 

"I _am_ a mage." the Herald snapped, "And you're free to be convinced or unconvinced somewhere else."

 

One of the men starts to speak, but Empathy is Justice now, and Rage, and Love, protectively slipping between their ranks and twisting to guard the Herald with a snarl.

 

That is when she feels the scent of the Fade... fade... from her fur, and there are shrieks and cries of surprise as she is suddenly noticed. Perhaps that is what Cole does, the forgettingness of sight, when he flits unseen amongst them. Could she see him? Or smell him perhaps.

 

She gnashes her teeth at the intruders, a low menacing growl in her throat. 

 

Cullen shows up on the scene and the two men,  _soldiers_ she sees, straighten, though their weapons remain out. She, however, immediately adopts a dopey look and brushes her head against the Herald's thighs adoringly, trying to rub her scent onto her clothes so that she could ward off any foolish enough to attack. Spirits and Demons, at least, might think twice, but a part of her mind reminds her that the soldiers are too stupid and can't smell the Fade. 

 

"Oh." Lavellan says. And the wolf is pleased - she is an elf. She likes elves she thinks. Yes. Solas is an elf.

  
There is a flare of disappointment for a moment. Where was Solas? Why wasn't he protecting the Herald? Bad wolf. She would have to give him a talk about that later.

 

"Herald, why is there a wolf here?" Cullen said with an awkward cough when he noticed her.

 

The Herald had crouched down to cup the wolf's face in her hands, squealing quietly at her. Empathy licked her face, and the volume went up slightly.

"I don't know _where_ she came from." Lavellan said cheerfully, "One moment Haven was wolf-free, the next... not so much."

"You can't be serious." Cullen said faintly, drawing his sword, "Herald, it is not safe to go about petting wild animals."

"She  _is_ wild. Aren't you? Aren't you just the wildest!" She said, cooing at Empathy.

It was less degrading when Empathy considered the overwhelming brush of delight and love flooding into the air from the Herald's spirit. 

 _You're a dog person, aren't you?_ She huffed at the Herald. 

The Herald chose to butt her head against Empathy's, and this was fine. 

"It's not _me_ you should worry about - it's those two idiots that pissed her off." The Herald said to Cullen.

As if to prove that point, on of the idiots spoke up. "How do you know the wolf's a girl, imagine he has junk, hey! Same as you."

 

That was the wrong thing to say. Cullen's head turned towards them. "Out. Now." He snapped, in full commander mode, "I'll see you at the Barracks in 30 minutes and you better be ready for training. I hear Cassandra has been looking for partners, so why don't you warm up with her? We'll talk about the terms of your reassignment after." He said icily.

 

The two men paled, and they fled, fearful of Cassandra's wrath. 

 

 _Good_ , Empathy thought smugly. 

She pulled herself from the Herald's grasp to sniff at Cullen's boots and then, wrinkling her nose, sat back down to stare at him, unimpressed. To be fair, how good were a commander's feet going to smell, anyways. The point was, she wanted to look as disinterested as possible so he wouldn't fear her a beast. 

 

He sheathed his sword, then hesitantly, held out one of his hands.

 

She considered snapping at him, but then figured he was a Fereldan and besides the immediate lack of marabari in the vicinity, he _had_ done a good with the soldiers. 

 

She accepted a couple pats and brushed her mane against his leg before returning to Lavellan. 

\---

“Leave wolf behind, doesn’t know how to fight.”

"It's a wolf." Lavellan and Solas argued both at once, somehow offended on her behalf.

"How differently will you feel when a demon rips through its neck." Cullen said.

 

Empathy didn't raise her hackles, watching the back and forth with some bemusement. Empathy had tested Cullen's motives and sensed protectiveness. Awww... surrounded by dog people. What a time to be a wolf.

"Marabari  do the same, and they are descendant of wolves." it looked painful for Solas to admit that. He wasn't fond of the hounds.

 

"Except there's no training for this wolf. You've only known it for the last couple of days." Empathy sensed perhaps a tinge of possessiveness, that Cullen was hopeful to get the wolf's attention all to himself. It was cute... in a way.

 

"It got to haven, didn't it? through the _demon_ infested areas?" Lavellan said stubbornly, and here the possessiveness was much stronger, though that too was endearing.

 

Tired of the arguing, Empathy simply walked away and sat on her haunches, playing at disinterest in going. 

 

Lavellan pouted, but the party agreed the wolf didn't want to go after all. Cullen gave her a curious look and then she followed him inside. Once he'd gotten engrossed enough in his paper work, she slipped out and raced through Haven, laughing in the wind. 

runs around and meets them in the hinterlands

they shrug

‘well aight then'

__

"Well, what are we gonna call it?"

 

"Call who?"  
  


"The wolf, knucklehead. She needs a name."

 

The wolf chuckle-huffed, and Cassandra scoffed, "I see your obsession with nicknames has resurfaced, Varric."

 

"Does it count, Seeker, if the wolf doesn't even have a name?"

 

Solas began suggesting names in elven, and though Lavellan looked interested, the wolf just laughed.

 

"I - I don't know." She said finally, "I suppose I'll have to think about it."

 

later during a battle, "Well, she's certainly vicious." Varric chuckled, "I mean the only thing I can think of as vicious as her is a Seeker, but that nicknames' taken already."

"I _heard_ that, Dwarf!" Cassandra called up.

"Oops." Lavellan giggled at Varric, who made a noise of panic and walked further ahead.

-  
Lavellan likes to whisper things to her

“beautiful wolf, my beautiful wolf.” cuddles in fur

  
tells wolf secrets  
-  
wolf meets her in dreams but lavellan forgets usually except she’ll say things that she learned from wolf in dream about ancient elven and solas’s like “,.,,,,,,>>> ??”

and Lavellan is just frolicking amongst daisies completely unaware.

-  
absorbs demons into teeth

tries to tell solas, but can’t

Lavellan worries about dread wolf eating spirits, solas gets salty

wolf puts head on lavellan’s lap and lavellan is like “my bb”  
solas is :| ????

-  
carries lavellan to sky hold after in your heart shall burn

(she didn’t help during initial battle, when into the part she knew Lavellan would fall into, helped to cushion her fall)

howls infront of camp

isn’t allowed into tent to see lavellan healing  
huffing and walking around solas legs  
“Stop that, she will be well"  
lays flat at solas’ feet  
starts to doze off  
then Solas tries to rub tummy and startles to give Solas a flat look

“You let Lavellan do it.” He protests at the unimpressed stare

“That’s because she doesn’t _know_ she’s a person.”

Look up in surprise to see cole

wolf gets hella fucking excited

Cole! Cole! Cole!

Runs over and stands on hind legs to put paws on coles shoulders

“oh, you know me, my voice, my name, my spirit. I don’t know yours. Hello."

(secret name Yosemite from Lavellan)

“What do you mean, person?” Solas carefully says

“Not a _person_ person. Not now. But a mind that thinks, that feels, that knows things. Lavellan can almost tell, but you know.”

“hmm."  
—

Helps hunt and scout ahead when they're traveling to Skyhold. 

 

Solas' gaze is ever unfathomable when he gazes at her, and his emotions, whenever she pressed his mind, where similarly muddled. She forgot, sometimes, his age, and the way his mind worked was an ever moving tumult of thoughts, ever more dangerous the more she slipped in, a consuming trap.

 

She stayed away from going too deep, for the warning of the Fade to Empathy had not been forgotten.

__

inquisitor dealing with Dalish, called an Emerald knight <3 because wolf companion

stands beside her at throne

Solas watches with unfathomable expression

Cole whispers to her later, “Hurts and feels right at once, he remembers that place, at the foot of a throne, proud of the woman he served. He wonders if losing Lavellan would do to you what losing Mythal did to him.”

 _I will not lose her, so we will never know._ She answers in her mind _._

He blinks, then nods.

“Yes."  
-

butts head against Hawks thigh approvingly. Huffs at her.

“OH MY GOSH VARRIC LOOK AT THIS BIG FLUFFY PUPPY.”

Varric groans, “Come on, Bark, I only _barely_ convinced her to leave the Marabari behind.”

chuffs at Hakwe and Lavellan is like “Yes, this is a good human I like this human."

 

-  
When they go to adamant,

“You cannot save him. Not any of them. No one can.” Fear demon laughs

wolf snarls furiously

Cole, “Not a wolf, not a wolf, not enough. But a dragon will teach you to mock this love.”

this is the fade - you dare in a domain as much mine as yours?

Becomes a white dragon, fights demon

everyone runs, but lavellan stops “No!” she cries

 _Cole_ She thinks desperately as the spiders limbs attempt to suffocate her, _TAKE HER AND GO_

Cole grabs inquisitor and then runs as dragon fights

-  
fights and tears until there is nothing left but a wisp

sighs and lays down.

body is shattered

floats back to sky hold when it hears someone’s soul sighing

-  
solas and lavellan in dream, lavellan sad

“If she survived, she will return. Although I… would not put stock in it.” Solas says hesitantly

Lavellan is like ;^;

wisp floats closer, bumps lavellan, who is looking out towards where adamant is

“What -“ Lavellan mumbles, teary eyed noticing it

“It can sense your grief.” Solas murmurs, “I believe it seeks to help.”

Lavellan picks it up, mark sizzles and he cautions, “Careful, you are feeding it energy from the anchor.’

lavellan stops and spirit sighs, falling to the ground

reforms to a nug that sleepily scratches at solas’ pant leg

“I’ve never seen a white nug before.” lavellan says

Solas realizes its doing like an eskimo kiss to his leg like the wolf did and he’s like !!!

picks it up, v serious

“We should visit adamant.”

“What, tomorrow?”

Looks at nug passed out in arms. He looks back up.

“Now”

-  
they find shattered remains of white dragon  
lavellan gives a cry of pain

as they near it, energy of dragon form wisps and draws towards solas  
“What are you doing?!” Lavellan hisses

“not I.” Solas murmurs, and the nug changes form again, falling from his arms to become -

_not a woman to say goodbye. She wouldn’t understand. too many questions left unanswered_

a wolf.

licks Lavellan’s face, then fades away.

she cries  
-  
falling, falling, falling through the fade.

Except it felt like she was being directed _somewhere_

It brushes against her, for just a moment

hums its approval, some motherly affection

“You have more to help, to give.” It seems approving.

“yes.” she thinks, “Always. I haven’t saved him yet. I couldn’t speak to him.”

“No.” It agrees, “Maybe it is time for a change"

-  
comes to in a glen, dark skin, long white hair

wtf? she sighs

very weak, tries to determine where she is

somewhere in the emerald grieves

finds a stick that could be used for walking

“Well,” she sighs, “ I suppose I ought to find some way of getting myself together”

In the distance she can almost feel skyhold.

-

collapses at skyholds gates, solas POV

he walks into the infirmary to hear beautiful angry elven woman - no vasalin - chastising healers in elven

voice hoarse from disuse, scowling at them

accent is very thick when she attempts to use common, gets more annoyed

they flee

he steps forward, she blinks at him

he says ‘are you one of the people?’ in ancient elven, in an older dialect variation

‘her ears twist towards the noise, and her gaze focuses on him, sharp, zeroing in.’

(The fade whispers, words that should mean nothing take hold in her mind. She feels the song, tilts her head to let it filter through as the gift takes hold. _Thank you_ she whispers to the Fade, but it is already softly leaving.)

she groans, rolls her shoulders

“Are you?” she says in common, salty

he’s like !!! >:| !!!!!

heals her, tries to talk to her, she’s difficult af and evasive, lets him assume shit

except sometimes she’s like “Im not one of ur people.”

he’s like …

“blah blah blah”

she’s like ‘that stuffy war where people died bc someone insulted gilgi’s fucking dress’ (Ghili’nain)

and hes (intense stare) !!! *** not a usual noble to talk like that!! insta gains some approval, his mouth remains a thin line, but he has to fight the twitch to grin

ignores comment and talking, says ‘our people’ and

she’s like “Im not one of ur ficking people!” >:{

lavellan walks in with healers cowering

freezes

solas stands up to try and think of an excuse for her but

but lavellan is like o____o

They just stare at each other super intense

Then Lavellan is like “…Yosemite?”

and wolf grins, practically beams

and lavellan squeals and runs forward and basically drags wolf up to her chambers without another word

solas is like standing there in empty room staring at the also confused healers

he s like

‘wtf just happened’

-  
“Do not tell. It is our secret. Not a soul.” Yosemite asks, Lavellan is 2 happy she’s alive, agrees

“How? are you - did you -“

“You called me.” She hummed, wrapped around lavellan, laying her head on the smaller elves’ shoulder, “So I came.”

lavellan is just *///W////*

——  
Yosemite is sleeping at Lavellan’s side one night and hears cry in the Fade that jolts her awake

she shudders, the claws of past memories clutching at her  
she should not have forgotten

“No.” she hisses, remembering

she steals away from sky hold in the night - towards the exalted plains.

 

no one sees the shadow of a wolf loping through the mountains

 

——

runs nonstop

gets there, puts the mages to sleep with the flick of her wrist

the demon screams, bindings nearly burst

she turns back into a wolf and smashes into the pillars, feeling it weaken her with every strike

finally, they collapse, and she turns to see a woman fall from where the demon had stood

she rushes to catch her, breathing hard

“Oh.” Wisdom whispers, “I almost know you.”

“So you do.”she agrees, eyes flickering from exhaustion, “Have I saved you?”

Wisdom sighs in her arms, “I will not last much longer. If I do not get back to the Fade, then I will perish.”

Yosemite tries to struggle to her feet, to think of a rift nearby

“No, I’m afraid I won’t make it, then.” The spirit says gently, putting a hand on her chest

“No.” Yosemite says stubbornly, and feels tears in her throat

“You care. That they tried to make me something i wasn’t. That they were ignorant. That they could not think to try and understand. For spirits. You ache for spirits. Feel our pain as sharply as any others.”

Wisdom lays its head back against her arm with a contented sigh, “Hello empathy.”

“How do I save you?” She says thickly

it is not wisdom, but the fade that answers

a pertubed tendril stalks through her mind and pokes at her chest

 _here_ it seems to say, you are as the Fade. Strike, and so striken will be the Veil

she hesitates, then glancing up at the sky above, places one hand on her chest and digs her fingers - her nails - into the flesh.

There is blood - at first.

Then the pain changes.

Like she is light, like her fingers are digging into light made of putty, and it drags on her soul

she makes a grunt of pain, and her eyelids flicker

she’s faintly aware of green light starting to fall over their bodies

she hears a cry from afar but knows to lose focus is to lose the rift

Already the spirit is fading in her arms

she digs in harder and bites back a cry of pain as suddenly there is a wrenching sensation and light pours over them from above

she looks up and is nearly blinded by the green - it is brighter than any rift she’s ever seen - smaller too. There are blues and whites intermixed, as if she opened a rift deeper into the fade then usual.

She struggles to her feet and tips the spirit towards the opening

she hears a shout now - but doesn’t look back

“Thank you” Wisdom says as she slides in

instantly her hand drops to her chest and presses against the stinging wound.

Blood smears on her fingers, but the change happens in her mind

as she all but collapses on the ground, the rift warps and whispers away

She feels the fade brush a tendril to her soul, shivering and weak from the energy spent

 _You understand now_ it whispers, _that is what he means to do. To rip what has become part of our whole away. We are the Veil. The fade and the veil are one now. intertwined. Do not let him destroy it_.

she gives short, pained gasps as the fade suddenly retreats, and barely has time to adjust before a shadow passes over her. her eyesight is blurry from tears - not from pain or joy.

She doesn’t even feel relief yet.

“What did you do?” Solas’ voice rumbles, and she feels a grip - firm on her arm - tug her up. She knows its not meant to jerk her up and make her nauseated, but nevertheless, she scowls when Solas’ frowning face comes into view.

“Get your face out of my face.” she huffs

“Why are you here?” He says, eyes narrowed

“What’s it look like?"She snapped, trying not to retch as the world displayed double. Two Solas' were glaring at her. Lovely.

" _Tell_ _me_." He snarled in elven. 

"I heard a spirit, followed the sound, and I found some idiot mages summoning it against its will.” She says as she finds the world rocking a little less.

He scowls harder, “You just happened to hear a spirit cry out for help last night, in all the reaches of the fade, and just decided to come here?” He says in disbelief

“What? You didn’t?” She challenges, knowing full well he had

He narrows his eyes at her, “Do you always come when a spirit calls for help?”

“Only if I hear it.” She snaps, attempting to struggle out of his grip - successfully.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Lavellan says softly, Stepping forward to put her hands on both their arms as they glare at each other, “This isn’t an investigation. We’re not interrogating Yosemite. Can you heal her, please?”

Solas’ expression of distrust doesn’t change, but she feels a cool rush of healing magic wash over her.

she nearly faints from relief. She sways and now it is someone else solid who catches her from behind.

Some inquisition scouts call out to Lavellan about the unconscious mages and she and Cassandra head over, not before she points a finger at each of them and mutters, “Play nice” before departing

“How did you know to come here.” Solas says, “You do /not/ know wisdom, so were you spying on my dreams?-“ he says dangerously.

if she had the energy she would laugh - except then she feels the fear, the knot of worry, of being vulnerable in dreams, thinking only his friends had seen him

“She knows Wisdom. Wisdom doesn’t know her. Like I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know wisdom.” The voice behind her says. Warm arms shift and she peers up see she is leaning awkwardly on Cole - who doesn’t seem to mind. His hat casts a nice shade over her eyes from the sun.

“Kin, calling, keening, killed. She wanted to save Wisdom. Heard the cry, it pierced her dreams. She ran all the way here, could not stop. Not if she were too late. She didn’t want it to hurt you. She’s very tired now.”

Solas’ hunched posture lessened, and his expression of shrewd animosity washed away to shock.

“You…” He said softly in surprise, but before he could say anything, another voice cried out.

“YOU _RAN_ ALL THE WAY HERE?@!?!?” Lavellan all but shrieked, having apparently heard the last bit.

“Oh creators lets get you home!”

She was shepherded off towards a mount, but she blinked at the horse and then swayed over to stand by Cole instead.

“Oh.” He says, “Yes.”

He gets on the horse, and after a moment of hesitation gathering her strength, she follows, wraps her arms snug around his chest, and promptly falls asleep against his back.

She doesn’t feel Solas’ eyes on her exhausted form.

———  
After explaining that she had only used magic to put them to sleep and didn’t have any offensive capabilities to use against the mages, the advisors where all a titter in horror over what could have happened.

“They were circle mages.” She said stiffly.

Vivienne made a tutting noise and she sighed, “ _Kirkwall_ circle mages.” She amended.

Vivienne tsked in agreement.

“You could have _died_!” Josephine worried, “Those roads are notorious for their bandits! Why did you _run_ there!?”

Cullen was looking at her appraisingly, as if that feat was impressive. Lillianna did not appear to believe her.

She sighed, “I thought it would be cruel to press an animals endurance to suit my needs. I did not want to risk stopping.”

“For a spirit?” Cassandra spoke up in surprise, “For a spirit that the mages claimed turned into a _demon_?”

She turned to level an unimpressed glance her way, “A spirit of Wisdom, Seeker. Surely knowing Cole has opened your mind to the non-malevolence of such creatures at the very least, if you must ignore any goodness in them.”

“But it became a demon.” She reiterated

“A demon and a spirit are as different as a good or bad person, Seeker. The distinction is both obvious and completely nonexistant. They wanted a spirit that would fight. It was against Wisdom’s nature to fight. Their expectations warped it into something closer to what they wanted, but against Wisdom’s will. The conflicting emotions and impulses made a demon of it. That was what I was rushing to save it from.”

Cullen opened his mouth to say, “But without _rest_? For a _demon_?” and she finally grew fed up, whirling to stare him straight in the eye “Your reliance on the separation of spirits and people is your losing point. If you had a friend - in fact even if you knew a good person - and knew they were being tortured, and knew someone somewhere was killing them, and you knew where they were, would _you_ stop to rest?"

A familiar and slight cough, and she winced internally.

Solas had heard that then.

Cullen coughed awkwardly, but she could feel him turning those words over for consideration, “Whatever the circumstances, they are past now. And you cannot be allowed to accompany the Inquisitor further than Skyhold’s borders if you have no training.”

She sighed and slumped. This again? What was it with Cullen and Experience-gating her?

“I would be willing to help with that.” Solas spoke up, and she frowned.

How salty would he be if she just flat out refused?

The advisors started talking and she tuned it out from then on.

Lavellan had left with a party for some (quest or other). She had been caught attempting to sneak out when she heard and…

well, now this.

Eventually the group quieted down again and Yosemite blinked and came to when everyone started to get up.

Solas came to stand beside her, quiet, composed, arms behind his back.

Hiding his emotions.

That always seemed to irk her.

“It seems you are my charge.” he said in an almost friendly tone, as if they were sharing a joke. Like it was _such_ a surprise that he’d managed to maneuver and play the Game so that he’d be her warden.

She scowled at him.

He lead her out, and began to talk about how to best help her adjust.

She resolutely ignored him, wondering about the rift she’d opened.

It wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t a scrape of the other rifts, or the bruise of spirits pressing against the veil.

It had been shallow but painful.

 _The Veil is part of the Fade now_ she thought.

And he meant to tear it down.

Would the Fade survive that?

She felt cold about the answer.

“You are not listening, are you?” He said with a sigh.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“You can do magic, but I will assume that was not what you trained in.” He says almost convincingly off handedly.

 _Like he isn’t delighted to have another ancient elf with him_ she thinks sourly.

He was referring to the fact that elves were once all mages, she supposes.

Rather than answer, she sticks her tongue out at him again.

“They believe you are unable to defend yourself. But of course that would not be true. Even slaves were trained to an extent that people of this time would find deadly.” He says, turning to face her.

Asscessing - is she a threat? What can she do? What skills does she posses that I might use?

 _Nothing. Because I’m not one of your elves_ , she thinks wearily. She’s afraid of his reaction to that, though, that he might cease being… so open, in a sense. Might be stung. So instead of directly answering she says, “I am too weak and greatly limited right now. Consider me as having no skills and being a dead weight.” yosemite laments to solas

he nods in understanding, as if he agrees that no matter how powerful he may be in comparison to these weak puny mortals, its _so_ stifling to have _so_ little power, boo fucking hoo and she goes ‘bah’ bc he thinks she was in uthenara

she knows elves probably had fucking intense training and were OP af

Cullen is like ‘if she wants to travel with the group, she needs training’

“I will help you regain your strengths to the best of your ability.” He says quietly as he leaves her infront of her room, and then, “We will begin tomorrow.” he departs

shit. He expects me to know ancient elven training exercises. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. And he’ll think I’m just being childish. shit.

 

feels the fade form and filter into her bones. Imagines green sparks igniting her insides, glowing like emerald embers, as knowledge takes root.

“You feel guilty that the fade is giving to you.” Cole says softly, voice at her ear nearly making her jump out of her skin, “Like you haven’t given anything in return”

winces, “I have nothing to give”

“Its not like that, you are kindred, calling, courting the fade. You want to stop it from being ripped apart. You want to help. It is making sure you can.”

she flexes her fingers, feels the weight of power in them now, “And if I fail? Wasted gifts. What if I can’t stop him? I’m too selfish to hurt him.”

“Maybe, but you won’t let them die. If you have to, you’ll choose them for his sake.” Cole says softly.

She ruminates on it, but then sighs and he says, “No, its not a weakness. Its what let you be here. You don’t want to hurt him because you understand him. Feel his pains and fears and doubts. You want to show him the way. The Fade wants to let you. You’ll do what you can.”

He is gone though, flittering to someone else with bigger concerns

“What if it’s not enough.” She says quietly, flexing a hand in the middle of the hallway.

There is no answer.

-  
“How did you come to know each other?” Solas says carefully as they wait for the soldiers to finish restocking their mounts

“Secret!” Lavellan crows, which causes wolf to chuckle

“Dirthamen was so salty when everyone let go of their secrets, what do i look like, pride?” Yosemite says, smiling coyly at solas from lavellan’s shoulder

“She called me from the dreaming” Cole says as Wolf is draped over Lavellan, SOlas immediately !!!!

“Tumbling, turning, twisting, the fade is such a deep place, a home beyond any body. Voice calling me. Purpose. I am yours, by your side. I could die a thousand times, and come back each one where you needed me. I felt your pain and it linked us together. I will save you. So I am here.” He mumbles

Solas is :0

she scowls at him as Lavellan is all blushing to the haps

“I am _not_ one of your people!” she snaps, pointing an accusitory finger at him

Cole looks at her, she sighs at him

 _but you came to help him all the same._ cole thinks

 _tru_ she thinks back.

-

as they’re walking, she can tell Solas is all grumps bc he thinks she hates him and is feeling down and angsty

also she refused training from him because she was like ‘i fucking know what I’m doing now bye'

as they are looking for herbs - wolf senses tingling and she can smell them - feels energy crackling, smells hunger, runs to find solas getting ready to face off against some demons

they stop when they see her

_a wolf, white and terrible, large as a tree, snarling from the fade_

(empath powers to show them what she would do if they harmed him)\

they retreat

Solas whirls around and he’s like WTFFF????????? >:| !!!!!

and cole is like “Kin to the Fade, hear the roar of ancients in her bones”

 

-

finds a camp of masacered Dalish, she can smell it - blood and aravels - as they are riding, halts them and tells solas in salty terms that he probably shouldn’t see this. Knows he doesn’t see them as people. has confronted him about it. they still think they can change the others mind so long as they don’t tell lavellan ‘the truth’ about the other.

she’s like “Your duty would probably find this a waste to experience.” reference to him talking bout his duty all the time

(hes talked to her about Lavellan dying, she sighs and agrees, says the mark is killing her anyways)

what is the truth? It is a conglomeration of instances and experiences, each as varied and vocal as the last.

he’s like low key pouty ‘don’t tell me what to do’

she’s in the middle of the camp, crying softly - not pained, but mourning - over a child who is dying but hasn’t passed on yet - arrow in her lungs, drowning in her own blood, clutching at the wolf who promises her it will be okay.

she’s there for a moment, and then the fade grants her a little verse in ancient elven to send their souls off without calling on falon'din

She realizes he’s been standing there behind her and without turning around she says

“Of course they are people” she doesn’t sob, but she knows there are bright angry tear tracks down her face now.

her hands are covered in blood

“Every single one of them are people, not just elves, not just spirits.” she whispers

“I cannot afford to think that.” he says hoarsely

“where is your empathy? Why have you displaced it in the name of your duty?” She says, finally turning to look at him, and she looks so worn, as if she cannot conceive of it

He looks away, “The people need me.”

“Which people?”

He glares at her

“My kin need me.” He hisses

“To be what?”

“A monster, if I must, that decides the stock and value of one peoples’ lives against the other!” He snaps finally

“Then you are becoming what you hated most about the Evanaris.” She whispers

he is silent but then Lavellan shows up and she’s like

oh

and starts crying and then chaos

 

later Solas is standing over a small grave, holding the bundled up body of the child

He is staring, staring, thinking

and then something occurs to him that makes him take a sharp intake of breath

Cole is standing beside him, and whispers, “How did she know what I hated about the Evanaris?"

-

Cole appears in front of her, is like “He thought you were an acceptable risk before, because you only knew he was ancient, but not who he was. Now he is afraid he must take drastic measures to prevent you from revealing him.”

She sighs, languid, “remind him that i haven’t so much as threatened it yet”

“he thinks maybe you have told lavellan”

she turned to cast her yellow eyes on Cole

“Tell him I am waiting on _him_ to do that”

-

Winter palace, everyone is getting ready

she’s lounging around

is infomred that solas suggested Lavellan bring her because she’s ‘more aware of the Game than most” and she’s like WTF SOLAS UGH

he likes her tho bc he’s like ‘ur not a stuffy noble are you. did you run away? you have no valaslin..’

and she like, throws and apple at him so he leaves

later she’s in a foul mood bc dress fittings

(she had managed to magic her hair black but when lavellan found out she begged Yosemite to keep it white for the ball and she like FFFFFF I CANT SAY NO >:(((((((( FUCK U SOLAS ) (jokes that lavellan does better puppy eyes than she does)

Solas appears and he’s like, “cole said u were upset’

and she’s like ‘u recommended me u ass’ and he’s like ‘even the lowest ranking slave - perhaps especially them - knew the Game perfectly, how to use it to their advantadge.’

she’s like >:L

“You know, Lavellan is in charge of my outfit” she says, “Everyone else is wearing uniforms but me. A dress. She is making me wear a dress.”

he considers, “No doubt whatever you wear you will be beautiful.”

“She has been considering giving me valaslin.” she says icily, “What do you think? White brand of Elgar'nan look nice?”

Solas is like HISSSSSSS “ _ _No.__ ”

she gets up and leaves

Cole appears, “Oh…” he says, wilting at her retreating form, “You failed the test.”

-  
steals his ugly hat during the ball

is fucking beau as fuK

-


	8. Together In Time

 

 

Au where she is standing besides him as he does it, but she can’t stop him, its over, except when the veil collapses, time resets and she wakes to realize its all over and she’s broken by it

(the anchor is stronger, she thinks thats what saved her, and maybe this time if she dies before he tears down the veil maybe - maybe - it won’t reset again)

but she decides maybe this time she can make it easier for him because she tried so hard and she couldn’t stop him anyways

so even though she stays close and becomes his friend she never instigates a relationship, and he acts differently, closer, which hurts

And she notices that when he looks at her, its with so much sadness in his gaze, and she’s sorry she never realized it before

and when he says she changes everything, he’s looking at her instead of away, and she tells him its not her its the anchor and he tells her its _not_ , some reference to a sword verses the person who wields it an how they weild power and she just starts crying and she ends the dream

because she’s thinking about how he uses power to kill them all

 

then one day she leaves without warning and goes alone to the exalted plains and manages to stop the mages from summoning Wisdom, and basically tells them to go to the inquisition its safe for mages there but she takes the book for summoning they have so that they don’t ruin everything again

and she sits in the middle of the field, holding the tome

and she feels the tears slide down her cheek, because she _did it_ she made one difference between their worlds.

maybe that one life saved will make this worth it

“i’m glad you’re alive” she says to the sky, “Maybe he won’t be so alone this time.”

and she gets up to go and then she sees him, standing there at the edge of the clearing, staring at her in shock

and for once he doesn’t step to run away, to leave her behind, to deny what they are, he steps forward, almost horror, almost alarm

and he says

“You remember?”

-

and she goes numb

her hands clasp in front of her, nervously, fingers curling round each other as she weighs the possibilities, book in the grass forgotten

but he _couldn’t_

all this time…?

“…vhenan?” she whispers, afraid to hope

His face twists and she _knows_ that it all makes sense, his attempts to stay near her, the way he’s become more open,

realizes the fact that she had the mark originally, but he had it when the veil fell

and then they’re running to hold each other and they’re crying and asking the other why

“I didn’t want to make it hard for you this time.” she sobs, “I - I couldn’t stop you so I didn’t want you to suffer when you killed us all -“

and that breaks him of course, because he’s just stroking her face, holding her, and he’s saying, “I was going to stay with you this time. Be with you. Vhenan, as long as I could. I was going to tell you the truth this time. I was going to let it go. _I’m not going to do it_ ”

and they’re breaking each other with love

lauging, crying - agony and ecstasy

He wipes his face with a sleeve, the other arm wrapped around her back, leaning away abashedly as he realizes the tears streaming down his face, “I thought I had been such a fool that you didn’t want to be with me, that the only world in which you could have loved me was the one I destroyed.”

“Never.” Her voice wavers, face scrunching away from the joy, “I would choose you in every life, in every world emma lath.”

heads bowed, foreheads pressed together

together


	9. What More And Then The Curtain Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pangora falls through a spell into the world of Dragon Age and has only a kabuki mask and knowledge of future events to aid her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > "We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin. " -  
> André Berthiaume, Contretemps

The Party, The mask, And The Unknown Task

Her college buddy invites her to a party - a pagan party. Her friend aligns herself with Egyptian beliefs - Set, specifically - but the party itself is heavily Norse and Wiccan in equal measure, she is told. 

Art college is a freeing place, where students might claim atheism or a pagan religion, whether that belief was founded in actual faith or an inherent urge to indulge in small rebellions, Pan couldn't be sure.

She was agnostic, herself, so she wasn't actually sure why Ana invited her, but she had a deep love for ancient mythologies and had spent a good amount of time discussing Greek mythology in class during critique, which was her best guess. She also wrote a 24 page paper on the Ancient Elvhen Pantheon of Dragon Age, but that wasn’t something Ana should know.

Deep down she was a strong pessimist, but coupled with a deep childish hope for magic being real and a deep sense of insecurity, she ultimately decided she was no authority on the existence of God(s) or Higher Powers so she wasn’t gonna choose one.

Either way, she wasn't much of a party person, but after being assured that alcohol and drugs weren't the _main_ feature of the party, she agreed to go.

She might as well go to a party at _some_ point, and the thought of a cool collection of baubles and trinkets was a little too exciting to pass up. Ana had also attempted to sway her with a promise of some tarot card reading, but Pan had had her fortune read during her Highschool years, and had no desire to become the center of attention when surrounded by strangers.

At least, she had thought not.

\--

The host - whose name Pan had already forgotten - did not have an exciting house. Whether he had specifically kept things bare so he wasn't playing up stereotypes about Wiccans or if he had been too lazy to put up cool stuff, Pan didn't know. Maybe he hadn't wanted to offend other beliefs? Either way, she was rather unimpressed with the event's set up, though she kept an eye on the tarot card tables and the one crystal ball someone had up.

She didn't quite feel like having her fate told to her, thank you.

Almost immediately into the party, Ana abandoned her to a pretty girl who had winked at her in the Hallway, and without her ride home, Pan was forced to stick it out and try to socialize. It was a little hard when the introduction to conversations started with "What's your Calling?" to which she'd learned the correct answer in her case was, "Agnostic."

It somewhat showhorned the conversation, and interest in talking to her quickly died. 

_It must be a horror at these events if you're Christian_ , she thought quietly to herself, sipping on some fruit punch that she'd realized too late was laced with alcohol. _Or worse, Atheist._

But she had a certain feeling most of the people in the room were familiars to tumblr, where feelings were always at maximum conviction. Pan of course, didn't think she was exactly intelligent enough to argue on such matters, and people with opinions on it were often willing to rip out throats in proving a point.

 _Radicals_ Pan thinks, sipping on her alcoholic fruit punch, _that's the word._

She is too drunk to do anything but laugh when some of the people put on a hand-puppet show, and clap with the crowd, and barely registers everyone moving when the host goes up to speak. He's a tall, serious looking boy - man? - and he looks like the perfect cast for a prefect in Harry potter. Or a hall monitor or an RA or a -

It is only because the crowd is shuffling away that she manages to stumble up and follow them as they make room for a new arrival.

A crotchety old woman, wrapped in many worn, fraying but beautiful shawls, appears in the space aloted. She is the only thing that looks like she actually belongs at a pagan meeting, and she seems both overly aware and annoyed by that.

 _It's Hecate!_ Pan thinks in her drunken stupor, and a couple laughs beside her help her to realize she might have said that out loud. 

"This is Nan Ka. She has something important to share with you all, so if you could all give her your silence." Isaac, or Eston, or whatever-his-name says, though he says it more like, _if you lot don't shut the fuck up, I'll shut you the fuck up because you'll be embarrassing me._

Pan closes her mouth obediently, then put a hand over it for good measure.

"Greetings." Nan Ka says, "I come with a great gift for he who shows great promise." From under her top shawl she pulled out a Kabuki mask. 

_Wrong Religion!_ Pan thinks blankly. _Uh oh! Should someone tell her?_

It was a fox mask, white with red accents. Pretty and simple at once. 

She felt the weeabos in the room all simultaneously hold their breath. Meanwhile, Pan had never gotten into the Anime scene. She grew up with pokemon, though, she supposes. _Guess I'm a weeb._ She thinks in defeat, _does that mean I have to learn Japanese? Fuck._

"This mask is blessed." Nan Ka was saying as she held it out in front of her, "For he who wears it will be able to grant their deepest wish."

The crowd liked that.

"What's the catch?" Someone called out, and Pan was thankful it wasn't her, because the host - Elis, Elijah, whatever it was - gave them a death glare.

"You will not be able to remove the mask until you complete your wish." Nan Ka answered, "And should you choose to never complete your task, you will never remove it."

"But how do you eat?" someone asked, "Are you supposed to complete your wish _before_ you get hungry again?” For some laughs.

Eugene, or Edgar - turned his mean look onto someone else behind Pan. It was a joke question. 

"It is magic." Nan Ka said simply, "To think otherwise would limit yourself. Or prove you unworthy."

That seemed to segue into her next segment. "I came here to look for someone worthy of such a gift. Among open minds with open souls. For I cannot give this to just any person, only one which the mask finds has the potential."

That caused some relief in the crowd, an expected limitation. No one just _gives_ away a thousand dollars. "Is there a specific Calling?" Someone else asked as the crowd delved into mutterings and conversation, “What kind of wish?” someone else cried, and of course, the familiar voice that asked about the food added, “How do you _see_ through it?". None of it was heard over the din, Pan thinks, which is probably for the best.

 

Nan Ka seemed done with her speech, but Pan had an important question that she thought any potential victims should know.

"What's in it for you?"

Immediately the murmurs went silent.

Now it was her turn to get glared at, but she just pleasantly thought of more ridiculous names for Ezekiel, or was it Esteban?

"After all, why don't you wear the mask?" She tried to explain, feeling her confidence lessening.

Nan Ka turned her sharp, hazel eyes on her, tilting her head.

"That assumes I have not already had my deepest wish granted.” She replied.

Well, it was kind of a wise-crack answer, but then Pan was a fan of wise cracks. She shrugged at that.

“Come meet me in the back if you wish to test your potential. Be warned, this is not to be taken lightly. Consider how deeply you desire, and what you would be willing to do for it, for there is no going back, should you be chosen.” She then turned and went into another room, presumably towards the backyard.

Immediately, as if following the scientific definition of “liquid”, the group surged forward to fill the gap left by Nan Ka, all talking excitedly at once, though not a great many seemed eager to follow her outside.

"Eddie, where'd you find her, she's great!" Someone said as the host boy tried to shush people. 

"Don't call me Eddie. She found me." He replied icily, much closer now, but the perpetrator was somewhere gone.

"Eddie!" She exclaimed quietly to herself, "Is that short for Eduardo or Edmund or -"

 

"I think you should leave." He said, suddenly infant of her, looking down his slightly hooked nose.

 

She felt her blood run cold with shame and embarrassment as she realized he was addressing her.

"You were extremely rude,” He continued, "and seeing as I didn't directly invite you -"

"Aw, Edison, don't be mean. Look at her. Probably had too much punch."

She looked down at her glass instead of up at Edison. The little game she'd been playing didn't seem half as fun now. She felt herself trembling slightly.

 

" _Pan!_ " A familiar voice said from somewhere else in the room, and there was Anna, blessed Anna. 

 

Edison blinked at her approach, but she brushed past him, focused on Pan, "There you are! I was worried you'd left by now. Oh. Hey, Ed."

"Ana." He said in surprise, hard features melting slightly, "You brought this girl?"

 

Ana rose one sharp make-up defined eyebrow his way, "Why? You bullying her?"

"I'm not -" He started to sputter.

 

Ana's arm slunk through Pan's, and Pan had never loved someone so much in her life. Dangerously close to crying, she blinked rapidly at Ana. "This is my dork of a cousin." Ana was saying, "He can be kind of a hard ass. Sorry."

 

" _Ana_." He said in annoyance, "She attempted to invalidate Nan Ka infront of everyone."

 

"She just asked what everyone was thinking." Ana shrugged, "Why don't you go yell at George? Wasn't he the dumbass who asked about how you could eat?"

He turned a critical eye on her.

"Calling?" He said like a police officer asking for driver's license and registration. 

 

"Agnostic." She replied quietly.

 

He scoffed, relaxing, but with a roll of his eyes, seemed to come to some conclusion. As if he was thinking, _Ah. Should have guessed._ She blinked a little more rapidly, pissed at the reaction. Edison sighed, "Just - just try not to bring any other embarrassing people in the future, can you?" He gave Ana a peck on the forehead, and retreated into the crowd again, supposedly to hunt down George.

Ana plucked the cup out of her hands. "Come on. They're gonna be giving goodie bags out in a little while, then we can get the fuck out of here."

Pan nodded quietly, subdued. She made simple talk with Ana for a while, and then disengaged herself so as not to third-wheel conversations, saying she just wanted to go to the kitchen to get a cup of water.

She remembered learning that staying hydrated lessened hangovers, and frankly she just wanted to be alone, and the kitchen was dark and uninhabited, Edison having left out all the food in the dining room.

 

She took one of the punch cups, poured it out in the sink, and filled it with tap water.

 

She stood quietly in the dark, relishing the quiet as she sipped on the water, and stared up at the one window that cast soft white illumination over her.

She cried - just a little - but recovered fairly quickly.

She hated being reprimanded in front of crowds. She’d only just wiped away most of the evidence when she heard shuffling behind her and then the light turned on.

"What are you doing _now_?" Came the now-familiar wheedling voice of Edison when she turned and he recognized her.

 

She held up her water meekly.

 

He stared at her for a moment then sighed and looked away. There was an edge to his movements, as though he looked both put out and high strung at the same time. She thought for a moment of Cole, but the thought whisked away. She didn't exactly know him well enough to be familiar with his usual demeanor, but the person she'd seen up till now had been extremely collected, polished and bird-like in his assessment of the world around him. Orderly.

 

His hair is swept slightly to the side, askew, hiding his face slightly, and as he moves to pass her, she hears him sniff. 

 

Somehow, despite the fact that she absolutely did not wish to talk to him whatsoever, "Are you okay?" tumbles out of her mouth before she's ready to accommodate it.

 

He pauses, startled, and in the moment he takes to look at her in surprise, she sees that his eyes are slightly red.

In alarm, she moves forward instantly, "Whoa, are you -"

"I'm fine." He snapped, recoiling from her invasion into her space, "I just thought - I was't- "

 

She titled her head at him, waiting expectantly. Maybe he hates the silence as much as her when shared with other people. She hates awkward silences, never mind that she should be fine with them.

He swallows, then after a beat, perhaps considering the noise outside the kitchen and all the people who will instantly notice, he backs up and turns off the light again.

 

In the darkness, with his gangly limbs and the hair hanging low over his face, Pan can almost pretend he's a black haired Cole. In a suit. _I guess._

 

He sighs, "You'll think it's stupid." He says quietly.

She blinks at him, "How do you know that?"

"Because you don't even _believe_ -" He cuts himself off with harsh laughter.

 

An angry sort of shame roils in her gut. She kinda wants to punch him. She certainly might start crying again. What a fucking rude asshole! He’s absolutely _nothing_ like Cole!

 

“Fuck you.” She says very quietly, tears trembling in her voice, “Fuck you very much.”

 

Abandoning the split instinct to throw her water on his face, she turns on her heel and walks back into the din, hoping he does not follow. 

For a moment she regrets the decision to return to the noise, and fearing attention, she follows the wall and slips out the next door she finds, hoping to at least avoid the main space.

 

When she is greeted with cool, crisp air, she pauses in surprise. There is a guy in the corner, regaling the crone. Is it fair to call her a crone? She doesn’t mean it disrespectfully.

 

Unimpressed, the woman watches as he preens in front of a gaggle of onlookers. He’s talking about his various wishes, trying to show off in front of some girls also accumulated into his social circle.

 

“Ugh.” Comes a voice from her side.

 

She glances up to see in shock that Edison is next to her. She is ready to be angry at him, but he’s looking at the small crowd with great distaste on his face.

 

The woman offers the mask, and the man makes a great show of putting it on his face.

 

If something was mean to happen - it doesn’t. The woman tells him to pull away his hands. 

 

The mask wobbles slightly as he does, hands flared as he obviously attempts to balance it on his face.

 

Nan Ka tells him to stand straight.

 

The moment he does, it falls with a clatter to the cement. 

 

the group laughs at him, and Pan sees the passing annoyance flit over his face before he laughs it off and leads them away, “It’s fuckin’ rigged. How the hell are you supposed to keep it _on_ your face without anything holding it on?” He jokes as he leads them towards Pan, Edison, and naturally the door back inside.

 

Pan answers despite herself, confused by his mocking tone, “She said _if you were chosen, it couldn’t be removed._ You weren’t chosen. Duh?” The crowd laughed more at that, and she sees it again, the anger pass over his face, though she feels a slight chill when it’s directed at her.

 

“Well if it isn’t -“ He starts to say.

Edison shifts behind her so that the way to the door is open, “Hello George.” He says, a tinge of annoyance in his voice as he cuts off the jock, “I see you’ve been enjoying the nachos.”

“What? I haven’t been eating the -“

Edison nodded towards his expensive-looking jacket, and a stain Pan hadn’t noticed before then was suddenly blatantly obvious.

Distracted by the cheese stain on his jacket, George - and subsequently, his posse - rushed towards the bathroom so he could save his apparel. Pan watched him go, not in the least bit sorry to see him disappear through the door. 

 

Edison steps away from her then, turning his head to look at her, a slightly lopsided and triumphant smile on his face. He doesn’t look like the type of person who smiles a lot, and it’s almost cute, but she’s still mad at him. She raises an eyebrow, unamused.

He coughs awkwardly.

“Right. I’m sorry, I wasn’t… that was uncalled for. I shouldn’t have said that.” He apologizes.

 

She turns to consider him, cautious. It’s not like she can tell him off for being mean. The words stick in her throat at their stupidity at just the thought.

 

“You weren’t worthy, huh?” She blindly guesses.

His mirth instantly recedes, and she sees she hit the point. Suddenly his mocking of her “not believing” makes a little more sense. Even if it’s still fucking pretentious and rude.

 

“...Yes.” He manages, eyes now on the woman, who stays in her corner of the backyard, mask again hidden from sight.

 

“Why would I make fun of you?” She said blankly.

“Because it was foolish to actually hope. I… thought I was worthy. I thought that -“ He cut himself off, shaking his head as she started to remember they didn’t actually know each other.

She shrugged, “What’s wrong with wanting to believe?”

 

He stared at her, quiet. “You should try.” He said quietly, “It’s not that embarrassing unless you’re surrounded by people watching.”

 

She laughed, “I don’t know what I believe in, let alone what I want most in the world. Besides. Be kinda weird to go to work with a mask on if I didn’t complete my wish.”

 

He gave her a strange look, “The mask wouldn’t choose someone who wouldn’t complete their wish.”

 

“No? They why give a warning?” She pushed.

 

“To weed out the people who wouldn’t.” He answered easily.

 

“I might not. I’m pretty lazy.” She said, consideringly.

 

“Then what are you afraid of?” He said quietly.

 

She looked at him, then back at the woman.

 

“I dunno. What’s she get from this?”

 

“Back to that again?” He sighed.

 

“She doesn’t get _nothing_. I’m just curious.”

“Then why don’t you ask?” He said, evidently annoyed.

“Okay.” She replied, chiper. He made a slight gagging noise, and attempted to grabb her as she started forward. Instead she placed her half empty cup of water into his grasping hand, and skipped down the path over to the old woman. Unwilling to associate himself with her actions, he hung back, watching and holding her drink.

 

“Hello, suspicious child.” The old woman offered upon her arrival.

 

“Hello, suspicious old woman. So whose Nan are you? Edison’s?” She started with casually, hands stuffed into her pockets.

The old woman chuckled, “I am no one’s Nan, but it makes people calmer to think of me as such.”

Pan nodded knowingly, though she didn’t really know at all.

“My name is not Ka, either, but people have a difficult time repeating my real name, I have found.”

“Don’t tell me.” She said, “I’ll be the first to butcher it."

“Do you wish to try the mask?” the old woman asked.

“I don’t know.” She said honestly, “I’m not sure what my deepest wish is. I doubt the mask is interested in helping me become a concept artist for game design, but what do I know?”

 

“Then you have nothing to fear.” the old woman said, echoing Edison.

 

“You imply that having a worthy wish is something to fear.” She said quietly.

 

“It is.” Hazel eyes flashed under the hood, “Dreams based on glory or self-gain will not move the mask. Not even virtuous wishes - as the boy over there knows now,” They both looked at Edison, who fidgeted, apparently attempted to overhear them to little effect, "Something greater than oneself is necessary to gain it’s power, and no humble burden, either. It requires the kind of wish that is not just life-changing, but world-changing. And it will take as much as it gives.”

 

“See, this is the kind of disclaimer you should put out at the beginning.” Pan says.

“Among what other things, I wonder?”

“Where’d you get it, why’d you get it, why it has the spell, and oh, yeah, what’s in it for you?”

“Far away, because I could, because it was made with purpose, and because I want very dearly a chance to change the world.”

“Is the chance to change the world your deepest wish? Because you could cut out the middle man.”

The old lady laughed quietly, slightly raspy, and Pan suddenly thought very strongly of Mythal. _Ohhh…._

“You ask many questions, hm? You assume I am worthy of the mask in the first place.”

“And since you didn’t directly answer me, I guess I can assume that you also are _afraid_ of being worthy in the first place."

The woman looks at her appraisingly, then pulls out the mask, offering it as if it was the answer. After a moment Pan takes it from her, gingerly. After all, she was kinda curious.

It’s heavier than she expected. Not plastic but clay, then. And on the inside of the mask are lines and lines and lines of a small, unreadable script. It is both unexpected and yet strangely fitting. it’s subtly throws her off - if you were trying to convince someone something was magical, you’d probably make the text rainbow colored or something, add a couple crystals and metal engraving. Instead it is scratched in, barely perceivable if you’re not looking at it in direct light.

She brushes her hands over it, appraising the workmanship. It’s nice and clean, but not otherwise remarkable. She probably didn’t buy it from a Chinatown vendor, but other than that, Pan couldn’t say where the lady grabbed it.

She lifts it up slightly, seeing the places where it would fit on her face.

“No, thank you.” She says suddenly, quietly, handing it back.

The woman leans back, disappointed.

“Do you fear what you wish most, child?”

“Shouldn’t I fear what I don’t know?” She says cheerfully.

“Perhaps you _do_ know, and simply lack the conviction to follow it.”

“That’s equally possible.” Pan agrees.

“You fear the inability to change, and so make no moves to do so.” The crone says quietly.

Pan blinks, feeling her breath restrict slightly in surprise.

“This would give you the ability to change. But you fear that, too. You fear _unworthiness_.”

“Hey, don’t you know it’s rude to read a girl’s deepest secrets? Or deeper secrets, at least?”

“Test the mask.” She replies, “And accept a chance to be more than you are.”

Pan turned to look at Edison, standing there awkwardly with her drink. Well if _he_ embarrassed himself, she might as well do it too.

A nervous laugh bubbled up slightly, and she pressed it to her face.

It was cool to the touch, and blinking, she realized that at the very least, she _could_ see through it. And it wasn’t as shit as most masks were to look through, either.

She heard a gasp from where Edison was standing, and turned to look at him. curious.

Her heart sank when she saw that George and his cronies were back outside, and George chose that moment to guffaw loudly at her.

“Take your hands away.” Not-Nan Not-Ka ordered.

She was afraid - of it staying in place and of George descending on her, and in that moment, she felt a sneeze building up in the back of her head. 

She sneezed violently, throwing her head back and then down, hands at her side.

The mask stayed in place. 

George’s laughter died in his throat.

“Bullshit! She’s got tape or something under there!” He snarled, starting forward.

“No, I saw!” Edison tried to speak up, but the attention he garnered only earned him being thrust George’s drink to hold. To his credit, he didn’t take it, so one of the posse was handed it, instead.

George strode forward, “Then she won’t mind if I pull on it, right?”

“Hold on, what the hell-“ Pan barely managed before he reached out and yanked on the mask.

There is a cracking noise, like lighting, and the smell of burnt metal, before George yelps and falls backwards onto his ass. 

Pan doesn’t know what is going on, but the other people are “ _Oooing_ ” and gasping as she assumes the mask lights up. She can feel some kind of energy routing through the mask.

“It seems you have awoken it’s dormant power and her true wish.” Not-a-Nan Not-a-Ka says.

“And what the hell is that?” She tries to ask, but before she gets an answer, the leaves on the ground around her begin to rush and whirl in a wind that wasn’t there before.

Everything winks out.

___  
She fell through time.

At first, just a dream. A moment, flashing by, stretching around her like rubber.

And then suddenly, sound.

 

At first, everything just hurts. But the discomfort fades, her nerves unspool and her muscles relax.

After that, the pain dissipates.

She’s laying on leaves and mulch. She lifts her head, orange and green dancing around her in a cool wind.

A forest, quiet, but not eerily - not yet.

_  
She is in body of Herald  
_  
picked up by a blind mage who knows who she is and casts a spell on the mask, teaches to dye hair. Teaches her to use magic and trains her in the use of daggers and stealth.

finally, 4:30 approaches, templars descend.

“Do what you must to free our binds.” The mage asks.

she promises, then flees as the Templars attack mage.

_

elf warden, city of Denerim, she doesn’t know which - who - will become warden, Hero of Fereldan, but Denerim is big enough that she can get lost in the background with the right hood and in the right shadow.

She keeps an eye on the alienage, of course.

She has a feeling.

If she’s in the body of the last Inquisitor she played, perhaps the last Warden she played as will be here.

 

She doesn’t have to wait long before she’s proven right.

 

Thinks of saving Duncan, knows she can’t.

Sneaks into the noble’s home and helps them kill attackers and save elves.

She’s as dastardly pretty as she remembers making her.

From the shadows she watches, notches her bow, and takes aim to help.

Oh Ver. Her name had been a pun - Ver Tabris. Not her first play through, and certainly not her last.

The last group storms in and cuts her off from her main help, which gives her a bit of difficulty, they knock her sword from her hand, and Pan swings over the side to help, picking up a waylaid blade and facing the attackers with Ver at her back.

“Who are you?”

“Me? No one. Opportunistic, some might say. Here, take this -“ throws sword at elf and helps cut down enemies before before others arrive.

-  
when they get to exit, she stealths away, hiding behind a corner when they look around.

Friend insists they cannot stay, Ver agrees, hesitantly, then they leave.

She gets ready for when they apprehend party.

Ver claims it was all her doing, Duncan saves her.

Pan follows them out of city, eventually Duncan turns and calls out to her, notifies her he knows she’s there.

“State your business.”

Ver “!!!” when she recognizes mask.

Pan laughs, “Me? Simply hoping to accompany you, is all. It’s a terribly long way to the Kocari Wilds, and I was hoping to lend my blade to cutting down darkspawn.

“Take off your mask.” Duncan orders, “Speak to me face to face.”

She pauses, “I can’t. It’s cursed.”

A hand raises up to finger the edge, “The woman who placed the binding spell is dead, and she didn’t pass on the secret to undoing it to any of her apprentices, as far as I know.”

Duncan stares at her, she at Duncan.

Ver offers that moving as a group can’t hurt, Duncan reluctantly agrees upon seeing that Ver has obvious feelings about it. Confronts Ver later when they think Pan is asleep.

“I don’t know who they are.” Ver confesses, “But they were there. At the castle. They helped fight the guards. I saw them in the shadows, aiding us.”

Pan closes her eyes.

_

Dreams in Thedas are more vivid than back home. Or maybe its because she’s a mage now.

Kthket had some magical barrier around the hut that held back the dreaming, some kind of mini veil, she thinks.

It was a bitch to cast things through.

But it also lead to dreamless sleep.

She hadn’t been prepared much for her move to the city where no magic existed at all to shield her from the spirits and demons of the Fade.

She knows she’s dreaming, but all she can think of is her own dreamer, locked in slumber.

She stands sadly in front of a grave, where he is curled up, fading.

She wakes when dawn hits and they begin moving again.

-  
Introduces herself.

helps hunt.

When they arrive at Ostagar, she vanishes.

Duncan unhappy, Ver nervous. Watches their meeting with king.

She cannot afford to alter the time line too much simply by being there.

unfavorably watches Loghain.  
_  
Sad when she sees Alistair.

Walks up to him and asks to see his hands. Sadly informs him that he’s got a sad life, a sad set up, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be good moments, even in the event that he becomes miserable.

“Don’t fall in love with her.” She advises, “And I’m so sorry for what’s going to happen in the battle."

He’s like “Who are you?” Beginning to recoil, “What are you talking about?"

She drops his hands as he backs up.

“Me? No one.”

Duncan calls out and when Alistair turns, she stealth vanishes away.

It had been foolish to engage, and even more foolish to try and warn him.

Duncan asks who it was, Alistair tells him masked figure, says, “I think they were threatening me.”

“How so?”

“They said that something bad was going to happen during the battle.” he doesn’t mention the first part, which despite all, makes Pan smile slightly.

Dork.

Duncan warily watches, “Hm. Well, as ominous as that is, we already have doubts about how smoothly the coming battle will go. Best be wary, Alistair, we must keep our guard up. For all of Thedas.”

“Yes, Duncan. Now what was it you said about meeting the new recruits?”

“They’re around here somewhere, but I believe that one of the Chantry sisters wanted to see you. You had best see to that first, then find them. I will be by the camp fire.”

they said their goodbyes, and alistair stared down at his gloved hands, as if remembering her own being held in them moments before.

-  
went to see dog, said hi, promised to help it.

-  
Warden forgot to grab flower

(She’d forgotten the first time around, too.)

She goes into tent and drops it off on bedside table

-  
Followed army after betrayal, helped heal Wynne, then disappeared again. Gathered intel.

She knew where they were headed first.

Hid out in Lothering.

Went to see the Amel family, warns them to flee.

Stares at Bethany for a moment, wishing desperately for a way to stop her death.

Wishing to warn Hawke of everything he was about to lose.

But Carvers face sharpens with confusion and anger and she flees.

Always flees.

She wonders if one day she won’t have to.

 

____________

The broken circle, the fade

goes in

 

She contemplates finding herself at Ver’s side for this, but eventually decides against it - Ver was capable of doing this herself until she grabbed the others, but more importantly, the parts of the Fade where in game she’d found permanent stat increases, she’s vaguely certain are just Ver building character in this world.

And she doesn’t want to fuck that up gigantically.

Also, she has no clue about how well Ver will take to seeing her here so soon after Ostagar.

Maybe another time, she’ll find an excuse to approach, but for now…

Yeah, for now, not a good idea.

She wonders then, if she has the capacity to shape shift without having to meet people and be granted their forms.

She’s a mage on her own, after all, and more importantly, she has the capacity to imagine it is possible, and she is capable.

Which is what really matters in the Fade.

If only she knew what feeling like a beast was actually like.

In an effort collosal, she does Hawke proud;

 

she turns into a mother fucking dragon.

 

With a soft screech, she pushes on her hind legs and takes to the sky to look down on this Island section of the Fade, counting out the places Ver will have to get past.

Except she counts one too many.

With a sqwark of curiosity, she descends.

_

Cullen trapped in a dream, fending off demons, kills them and groans in pain.

Turns into a woman, goes to heal him, but he waves sword at her threateningly.

“Back, demon! I know you for what you are!” He snarls menacingly.

“Yikes!” She yelps, jumping back to avoid getting skewered, “Hey! Watch that!”

He accuses her of trying to trick him - lull him into a false sense of security.

“You have yet to succeed, so I suggest giving up now, demon, or face the end of my blade.” He growls.

She huffs, hands on her hips.

This was the Fade, right? She could imagine anything.

Anything.

With a pop, the sword Cullen is waving at her threateningly turns into a bouquet of flowers.

He makes a noise of alarm and drops it.

She makes a joke, “Oh!! For me? You shouldn’t have.” Before scooping it up and pressing it to her face.

Then she turns slightly more serious, “Now, behave and don’t threaten people needlessly. I want to help. You can have this back when you actually need it.”

A door bursts open and more demons come pouring through.

“Well shit, guess you need it now, huh?” She says loudly, turning it back into a sword and throwing it to him as she pulls out some daggers of her own.

Once they’re dead, he turns back to her.

“What are you doing here?”

“Trying to help.”

“Are you a mage here?”

“Ha! Like you could tell."

“I don’t know you.” He said firmly.

“How do you know whether you know me or not?” She said cheekily.

“I’ve never seen your face before. I think I’d remember an elf such as yourself.” Cullen says, gesturing slightly with the bouquet.

Her face.

A hand rises up to her face. No mask.

No mask.

“Where the -“ She mumbles in alarm and twists around to see it laying flat on the ground about forty feet away, where she’s transformed from a dragon.

She turns back around and lifts her arms in a shitty attempt to shield her face.

“You didn’t see me! Nope!”

She pauses, then groans and drops her arms, “Well, shit. Guess it’s too late now.” She sticks her tongue out poutingly.

 

“Do you want to wake up, Cullen?”

He paused, “What’s the catch?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t play dumb. There’s always a catch, especially in a deal with a demon.”

“You really know how to charm a girl. Call me a demon again and see if I don’t live up to that name.” She warns.

He blinks in alarm, then seems to reconsider her.

“Yes. Yes, I’d like to wake up.”

“Say hi to Ver for me when she arrives.” Pan says, snapping her fingers and expelling him from the Fade.

 

She stares at the empty spot for a moment before she grumbles, turns back, and walks forty feet to snatch her mask up and reposition it.

 

Time to go stealth help Ver.

No time for this weird bullshit.

 

_______________________________________________________

 

 

 

the novel books???

 

 

 

_______________________________________________________  
Oh Hawke, bb

 

_  
I’m sorry (after anders)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_  
oh, herald

 

Goes to watch Conclave, waits for someone to arrive, but no one does.

No one does.

The mask splits on her face. The sky is torn wide.

She hears the voice, booming, revertabrating through the air.

 

She has to help the divine.

No one else is coming.

_  
Cassandra suspicious of her, she lost her mask when it cracked.

 

Varric seems squinty, as does Solas.

 

It hurts, how familiar this is.

It’s been ten years but she feels new again.

Even if the world is falling apart and starting its unravelling descent into madness with the palm of her hand.

 

Cassandra stops at part of the trail, picks up something and they go forward (its the mask, she confronts Varric about it later, Varric gets sad, Solas gets narrowed eyes)

She thinks about saying something.

Weighs the choices in the palm of her hand.

One blank, the other marked by a God sitting next to her.

How much she would have given to know the truth from the beginning.

Cassandra mourns possible death of an ally, The Herald, Varric in denial, Solas suspiciously quiet.

She asks who this “Herald” is, surprised that there’s a name for her, so ironically appropriate.

“Shows up at the right time, knows the future, helps you mitigate disaster, and disappears.”

“Some people believe she is the incarnation of Andraste.” the seeker cut in quietly, “I suppose we shall never know, now."

She can’t help but laugh at that, which pisses Cassandra off.

“It’s just a mask. It doesn’t mean anything.” She says quietly when faced with the death glare.

“She was a friend.” Varric says gruffly, voice betraying an odd hint of emotion, “Now, seeker, I don’t think you need that anymore, do you?” He motioned towards the mask impatiantly.

Cassandra stared down at the fragments, fingers worrying the same edges she had once done, herself.

Quietly, she murmured, “Lielianna met her.”

“Well that’s all nice and fun, Seeker. What, you want to divide the pieces between the few of us that knew her?”

Cassandra glares.

“I don’t understand.” She says slightly helplessly, “Why a broken mask means she must be dead.”

“It was rumored she couldn’t take it off, cursed to hide her face.”

“Awfully convenient.” She quipped, mirroring Varric’s initial reaction to her.

The Dwarf stiffened, remembering that she could take the mask off, but not knowing her face from the dark.

“There’s no point arguing over it now. There’s a giant hole in the sky and I think we’re all stocked up on supplies."

Solas asks if he might look over the mask.

“Why?” Cassandra says suspiciously.

He motions again, “To see if what you said was indeed true - that it could not be removed.”

She hesitates, then hands it over. He says a stiff thank you, proceeds to examine it.

eventually

“It is incomplete, pieces of vital spell work are missing, but it does seem to prevent at least certain people from removing it. Whether the wearer was one of them, I cannot say, but the spell is… old. Powerful. It would not have ended with death - it was bound to something else when the primary energy source went away. A new tether. It seems it was shattered by the explosive reactions of the Veil being ripped open. They must have been very close when it happened.”

“Trying to stop it, no doubt.” Varric said softly, sadly.

Cassandra took it back.

“We should get going.”

_

She holds the last piece in one of her pockets.

__  
Cullen discovers it was her who is the Herald.

(Previous chapter ends with her contemplating something, then hears noise on staircase.

She fingers the knife under her pillow.

There is someone at her door.)

 

He has dreams of the mage tower while in sky hold, bursts into her room late at night.

“It was you!” He accuses, “In my dream!"

Pan’s initial reaction is to yelp and yank her sheets up to cover the very thin night gown she’s wearing.

Her response to the cold of Skyhold was to shut every window, stuff every crevice with some kind of fabric, and then to top it all off, place fire runes every couple of feet along the walls. She got it done in a burst of energy, and by the time she realized it was perhaps a tinge too warm for warm clothing, she was too lazy to go take them down, because they required precise equations for repositioning, and she also made the entirely intelligent mistake of carving them directly into the walls.

Stupid.

 

Point was, her dress was a little revealing.

Okay, a lot revealing.

She wasn’t expecting company, and the only thing she could sleep in comfortably was a sheer undershirt Vivienne had given her. Probably not the best material for an undershirt, but damn if it wasn’t silky soft.

Cullen is in the midst of blurting something else at her again, but apparently takes a moment to recognize a) he stormed in without warning and more importantly b) Inquisitor currently: basically naked.

She loves that with her elfy eyes she can see how truly beet red her turns in the dark.

“Maker!” He exclaims, as some kind of reprimand to himself, “I - you’re - I didn’t mean - I should go. I’m so sorry.”

And with that, her commander, red as a tomato, all but slams her door shut and probably flees as quickly as he can down the stairs.

“Cullen!” She calls out after him, but it’s too late.

She contemplates how bad of an idea it is to run after her commander in the middle of the night, wearing only a see through shirt, and sighs at the choices that leaves her.

Time to see the level of scandal she can pull off today.

And here she thought she’d finished for the night.

__  
Goes to his room with her sheets wrapped around her.

“Cullen.” She hisses when she gently pushes the door open.

She hears a thump, a muffled curse, and then a head peers down at her from above.

She’d forgotten about his ridiculous living situations.

He was up there, head in his hands, and looked up so suddenly he smacked it on the poor excuse of a ceiling above.

Ridiculous man.

She arranges the blankets over her shoulders and calls out a soft warning.

“I’m coming up.”

He mumbles something to himself. (If she had to guess, probably something along the lines of “Oh, Maker.”)

Then she grabs the rungs of the ladder and climbs up.

 

It’s probably like 2 in the morning.

 

And it’s fucking cold as tits.

The moment she climbs up, a hand darts out to help her up.

Cullen’s face is studiously pointed away from her chest area, and while usually she’d find that hilarious, at the moment she’s vaguely thankful.

She arranges the sheets around her body more comfortably and sits on the edge of his bed.

“Hello, Inquisitor.” He says, voice going up oddly at the end, eyes still looking away from her.

“Hello, Cullen.” She says, almost cheerfully.

He doesn’t respond.

“You know,” She says finally, “The strangest thing just happened to me.”

“Did it now.” Cullen says, but his voice sounds as if he was a balloon that got stepped on and the air went out of it.

“Yes. Funny thing, someone barged into my room yelling something about a dream and then promptly left without nary an explanation. I thought you’d like to know.”

“Did you.” Cullen said, like he’s a squirrel that just got run over.

“Hm.” She says in agreement.

A pause.

“Would you consider forgetting that happened and forgiving this foolish person for being a complete and utter moron and ruining your night.” Cullen says quietly.

“If said person would consider telling me what it was all about.” She answered thoughtfully.

Cullen’s face falls into his hands.

“I… It was the lyrium withdrawal. Forgive me, Inquisitor. I let it push me too far. I had a dream - it was… vivid. I… I reacted like a fool.”

The ache to wrap her arms around him and tell him everything will be okay is a hard urge to surpress, but she does give in a little and pull one of his hands away to hold in her own.

He turns to look at her.

“Cullen, in answer to your question about me being in your dream, the answer is probably not.” She said, a soft smile playing at the edges of her face.

His expression just grew more tortured, though thankfully he didn’t pull his hand away, he did turn to look out over his appalling excuse for “living quarters”.

“Of course, Inquisitor.” He whispers, “It wouldn’t make sense, anyways. I just… I…” He took a deep breath, seemed to recover a little, and began again, turning to search her face, “There has been much talk about this ‘Herald’ lately, and I… I have reason to suspect I met them before.”

She watches him.

“Without her mask.” He adds.

Her eyebrows lift in surprise, brain working to process that.

“I re-dreamed the event in which I met her… but I was hardly coherent at the time, it is likely I just imagined another’s face there, which is to say I was being a complete and utter idiot by running up to your room like that, It’s not as if you went to the Fade just to see me -“

“Oh! You remember!” She suddenly exclaims in delight when she realizes what he’s talking about.

He stares at her in shock.

“What.” He says, then blanches, “It was you!?”

“Well.” She says, “Yes? Probably? Oh, here, wait.”

She pulls her hand out of his grasp - he seems to have forgotten it anyways - and puts up her arms in the same ridiculous fashion in an attempt to hide her face.

“Better?” She said, slightly muffled.

He doesn’t answer, but she feels a soft, firm grip at her arms, and she lets him pull them down and away from her face.

He leans forward to gaze at her, and something pained and sharp in his eyes dampens her good mood.

“What were you doing there?” He rasps out in a hoarse voice.

“Oh.” She shrugged, feeling nervous, “You know, the usual. Trying to help.”

He didn’t respond to that for a moment.

“How? Were you a circle mage? Why did you save me?”

“What? Nah. You were trapped. I had to help.” She said in confusion.

He stared at her in surprise, and seemed to slightly shake his head.

“I… then it’s true. You are the Herald.” He says, softly.

An involuntary smile rises to her face despite the seriousness of the situation.

There’s a break in his somber demeanor, a flash of slight annoyance, though it seems with himself as much as with her, “I mean before the Breach. You’re the masked intruder. You were in Kirkwall. You helped then, too.”

“See, I’d never heard any of those rumors before I got here, you know. I didn’t know people had a name for me. You’d think they’d at least -“

She’s not really expecting him to kiss her.

It’s not gentle, it’s not fierce.

It’s weighted, in a way, and she freezes up the moment his lips meet hers.

Damn, diggity damn, what?

She breaks away, ears burning, face flushed, breath turning maybe a little ragged.

He’s watching her, as if he still hasn’t fully comprehended everything that’s happened.

“I.” Her voice cracks, “I should go.”

She drops down the ladder, glad she’d mastered the trick.

And then, for the second time that night, someone visiting someone else’s room unannounced flees without any other words.

It’s only once she’s in the hall that she realizes she left her sheets behind.


End file.
